Genius Only Comes Along in Storms
by unoriginalrhombus
Summary: AU. The summer before senior year and Rachel has never felt more alone, pressured, and screwed for her future. So Rachel decides to get a summer retail job. There's nothing quite like customer service to break someone's misconceptions about reality. Eventual Faberry.
1. Regrets Collect Like Old Friends

**Title: **Genius only comes along in storms of fabled foreign tongues

**Pairings:** Rachel/Quinn, Brittany/Santana  
**Summary**: AU. The summer before senior year, Rachel decides to get a job. There's nothing like customer service to break someone's misconceptions about reality.  
**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, and I'm not trying to use any of this for profit. All characters are the property of Fox and Ryan. I'm simply just borrowing them for awhile.

**Regrets Collect Like Old Friends**

(Chapter 1)

* * *

Rachel was painfully aware of two things as she stood in front of two doors.

The first being that this was an absolutely horrid idea-and she had once entered into a blind singing class-so, she knew about horrid ideas. To be fair though, Rachel had only entered that class to help benefit the voices of the students around her. They had an unfortunate defect, that didn't mean that they didn't deserve a chance to grow and shine like all children naturally should.

The second being that she had absolutely no idea as to what she was doing or what she was supposed to do, and Rachel Berry was never the type to acknowledge her shortcomings. So that obviously meant this was serious.

Rachel sighed and glanced down at the sidekick that her hand seemed to have a death grip on. She may not have felt physically, mentally, or emotionally prepared for this-she had only done an hour or so of research on the abilities required for such a task, but even that research hadn't been extensive- but Rachel Berry wasn't a quitter. She didn't quit during that spirited debate where she was booed incessantly because she "lacked the emotional feelings that coincide with African American culture-or so they say- and she wasn't going to quit now. Besides, how bad could it be?

Rachel took one last deep breath and plastered a huge confident smile on her face as she pushed open the double doors. As she entered the establishment, she was greeted by all the things that one would normally associate with a retail store but she was also greeted by the sound of helium being shoved into balloons and the faint smell of chocolate. She started to take tentative steps in the direction of where the noise was coming from. With each step Rachel felt this sense of dread encompass her and she couldn't escape this gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. When she was only a few feet away from her destination, the two people inside of the circular area stopped what they were doing and turned to face her.

The original feeling of uneasiness was confirmed when she saw the two people's faces in what was titled "The Inflation Station". Normally she would point out all the wrong things about that title but it was her first day and Rachel felt like she had to make a good first impression. It didn't help that her feeling of dread was proved right but it wasn't a huge surprise to her. After all, Rachel had always had a bit of a strong sixth sense—in simpler terms; she was kind of a psychic- since her third birthday. It wasn't anything terribly magnificent. She couldn't predict the weather or the winning numbers for the lotto or whatever. She was just scary good at predicting bad situations for herself. Granted, bad situations didn't really need to be predicted for her-considering how often they happened and all-but she still liked to take pride in her gift. It's not every day someone is blessed with some sort of psychic talent.

Rachel brushed her thoughts away quickly and focused on the two people in front of her. She recognized them immediately to be one Santana Lopez and one Finn Hudson. Rachel silently cursed Kurt for not telling her that two of the most popular kids from school worked with him. It's not like something this huge could have slipped his mind, considering Kurt had been working at Party City for almost a year.

"Who are you?" Finn asked confused.

Santana scanned over Rachel's outfit. Starting with the black t-shirt she was wearing, to the highly unfashionable tan khakis, to the black converse her father had bought her. Rachel was almost certain she looked as uncomfortable as she felt; she wasn't really one for pants. Especially tan, khaki, uncomfortably mannish pants.

"She's obviously the new girl," Santana stated with a roll of her eyes.

Finn scrunched his eyebrows together in a frown and Rachel had to resist the urge to laugh at how childish he looked. "We're getting a new girl?"

"Apparently," Santana responded with a shrug.

"Why?"

"Because its summer time and we've been a man short since Suzy Pepper quit," A short man answered as he walked into The Inflation Station. He wore a baseball cap and stood only a few inches taller than Rachel. He had a bit of a protruding stomach, and had this far too jolly smile attached to his face for eight o'clock in the morning. Rachel immediately assumed that he was the manager.

"But Suzy was a woman," Finn responded confused.

"And you're an idiot," Santana said with a smirk as she stuck her hand out and grabbed the balloon the short man was handing her.

The short man chuckled for a few minutes before turning to face Rachel. He smiled a wide smile that could have easily challenged Rachel's and stuck out his hand. "Don't mind them, they're always like that. I'm Rich, the General Manager of this Party City."

Rachel smiled her huge confident smile and grabbed his calloused hand firmly. "I'm Rachel Berry. May I say that it is such an honor to be wor-"

"Kurt tells me you're a good worker," Rich cut Rachel off briskly and pulled his hand away. "I've known him and his father Burt for years. I'd do just about anything for that boy. So don't let me down, alright?"

Rachel shook her head furiously in response. She was determined to do a good job, not just because Kurt had vouched for her, but because she really needed the money.

Rachel had never really been poor. She wasn't ever classified as being lower class but that didn't mean she was qualified to cover all of her Julliard expenses. Rachel had done the math and tuition alone was a rough thirty two thousand dollars a year. That wasn't even including room and board. Even if Rachel had applied to and was granted every scholarship out there, she would still come up short. So this job was a necessity.

Ever since she was a little girl, Rachel had had this dream of becoming a star. She would watch countless movies that contained any bit of musical theater—sometimes on repeat—until she had almost all of them memorized by heart. By the age of six, she had already known most of the score to Grease. By nine, she was belting out all the songs of Rent. Her passion didn't seem to decrease with age, but both her father's interests did. That wasn't to say that they didn't support her. In fact, her fathers were probably her biggest supporters. It was just that somewhere along the way their fascination with their little girl seemed to die.

If Rachel had to pinpoint a specific moment in time when everything changed, she would pick the day of the accident. She had been around ten at the time and she was in the fifth grade. She always remembered that day relatively well because it was the day she had finally figured out how to play her favorite jingle on the piano. Rachel had been practicing Chopsticks for days because her daddy (Doug) got a kick out of it. She had anxiously waited on the steps, expecting her fathers to pick her up, but was shocked when her aunty came instead. Her aunty Jen piled Rachel and her belongings in a car that kind of smelled like old people. It didn't smell like youth. Rachel would later find the connection to be rather fitting.

As her aunt Jen drove she started to talk about Rachel's other dad Richard. Jen spoke about how he was entering into traffic when a drunk driver hit him. He appeared to be okay but there was some damage that was done to his back, and unfortunately he wouldn't be able to stand for long periods of time anymore. Rachel had listened quietly and with the patience that would have shocked anyone, if they had been there. She listened to her aunt Jen talk about her father and how terrible it was that this could have happened, how he was so young. Jen spoke as if Rachel's dad was dying and Rachel didn't think that her tone of voice fit. Even at the age of ten Rachel understood a lot. She understood that accidents were bad but what she didn't get was why Jen was talking about her dad as if his life was over. As far as Rachel was concerned, he was alive and that was all that really mattered.

Turns out she was wrong.

Before the accident her dad had been a very cheery man. He loved his job, his husband and his daughter. But after the accident everything seemed to change. Her dad was forced to quit his job, even though he was quickly becoming one of the best optometrists in the state. He was great at his job but he couldn't handle standing for even the short periods of time. After that her daddy (Doug) was forced to pick up more hours at the hospital so that they could get by and still afford to put Rachel through her dance classes and acting camps. Rachel knew that both her father's loved her; the problem was that it didn't really feel that way.

After her dad quit his job, he started sleeping more often. Rachel would leave her house at seven am and return a little after four, only to find her father in the same position. It became such a big deal that her dad was sleeping at least fifteen hours of his day away. More often than not, it was more. Her daddy Doug was away so much that he barely noticed the shift in her dad Richard, and the shift in his little girl. Rachel had been so young but she had known that the responsibility would fall on her. So everyday Rachel would wake up a little earlier so she could make her dad some breakfast, she would stay up a little later to make sure her dad ate and looked relatively clean. It didn't really take long for Rachel to take on the role of the parent; she had always had great maternal instincts.

It did however take a little while for Rachel to find out about the pills.

She had been washing both of her father's laundry because her dad rarely moved and her daddy was never home anymore, when a bottle had fallen out of her dad's sweatpants. Rachel had been almost twelve, and it had been nearly two years since the accident, but the prescription was exactly the same as it had been when they had left that hospital together.

_Vicodin_.

Rachel knew she should have done something. In that moment she knew she should have told her daddy, or tried to get her dad some help, but she was twelve, and she was scared they would take her dad away. Then Rachel would really be alone. So Rachel did something she wasn't particularly proud of, and she stuck the bottle back into her dad's pants. Things continued on the way they were and Rachel started to think that maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe she could still make it. She grew accustomed to nobody in the audience at every performance, she grew fond of how quickly she learned each new route to travel on the bus and she took pride in the little dinners that she made and ate alone every night.

It wasn't conventional and it probably wasn't even healthy, but it was hers. It was all Rachel began to know. It was fine for her family to look perfect on the outside, for Rachel to seem perfect—Rachel had learned early on that the more perfect and happy you pretend to be, the less people want to know. She was fine with the façade, as long as nobody knew just how broken her family was. Just how broken she was.

Rachel even refused to acknowledge the cracks in her perfect world.

It worked for her. Pretending to be perfect, pretending to be okay. She had learned early on that people only wanted her because they needed something. Her dad needed a caretaker and her daddy needed to feel a little less alone. Glee club needed her talent and her friends needed her smarts. She wasn't stupid; she knew that everyone was using her. She was alright with hiding her dad's secret as long as he seemed okay. She was alright with pretending to be perfect as long as no one bothered to find out otherwise.

She was no Quinn Fabray. Rachel Berry was not even close to being as perfect as the infamous Quinn Fabray, but she could pretend to be.

She was fine, until she wasn't.

She had been fifteen at the time and barely a freshman in high school. Her fathers and she had been carrying on the same dance for almost half a decade and Rachel thought she was boding rather well. She had come home after her usual extracurricular activities and began to prepare the usual dinner for her dad. After she had the meal started, she decided to go wake her dad so he could take a quick shower and shave before eating dinner and heading back to bed. When Rachel had entered her fathers' room, she had immediately known something was wrong. Rachel had seen the bathroom door slightly ajar and remembered thinking that it was odd because she had thought she had closed it that morning.

Nothing could have prepared Rachel for what she was about to see.

It's a strange moment, seeing your parent on the ground with an empty bottle of pills beside him. Rachel remembered the odd feeling that had encompassed her. It was like she was in a dream and she knew it was happening, she knew that it was her life, but at the same time it just didn't feel real.

Rachel didn't really remember calling 911 or even performing CPR. She didn't really remember anything except the look on her daddy Doug's face when he saw her dad. It was a look of acceptance, like he had been waiting for it to happen. That was when Rachel knew that her daddy had known about the pills. She wasn't exactly sure when he had found out but she was certain he had known for some time.

Her dad was released after twenty two days. He was let go with a prescription of anti-depressants and a promise that he'd do better, that he'd be a better dad to Rachel. Her daddy had also made a promise that he would try and be home more, that he would make sure they were the family they used to be and like a fool Rachel believed them. Don't get her wrong, Rachel knew that her father's loved her; otherwise they wouldn't have tried at all. And things did get better for a little while, Rachel's fathers were better in little ways. But just like every other habit that was hard to kick; their old lifestyle crept back and after barely a few months Rachel was back to her old life. The only difference being that she had Kurt, who had surprisingly enough been the one to comfort her through the whole ordeal.

He didn't know everything about her but he knew enough.

The great thing about Kurt was that he knew when to ask the questions and he knew when to leave her alone. They were hardly as close as all TV shows preached best friends should be, but they were close enough. He was her best friend and together they were planning to take New York by storm. The only issue was money. Rachel wasn't even sure she had enough to cover tuition, not to mention living expenses. She had once had a hefty college fund, but her dad had blown through that rather quickly. Rachel really had no other options, so Kurt's offer had been like magic.

"If you don't stop staring at me, I'll kick you."

Rachel snapped out of her reminiscent daydream in time to see a perfectly formed scowl take its place on Santana's features. "Huh?"

Rich laughed and nudged Santana out of the way so he could meet Rachel's gaze. "Except she won't really kick you because it's bad for business."

Santana rolled her eyes dismissively before returning to the pile of balloons that were in front of her, "Yeah. Whatever."

Rich laughed again and Rachel was suddenly struck with the image of Santa Clause because no one in his right mind was that jolly.

Rich pointed his finger at Finn, "Finn. Why don't you go show Rachel where she can put her stuff?"

Finn nodded quickly and scurried out of what Rich was calling the balloon counter. He took a few steps towards Rachel and smiled impishly. "I'm Finn. Finn Hu—"

"Hudson," Rachel finished. "I know exactly who you are."

Finn's grin seemed to grow with pleasure as he started walking towards the back of the building. "You do?"

"Yes, we happen to go to the same school."

"I'm sure I would have remembered someone as pretty as you. We must not be in the same class," Finn stated shyly with a shrug.

Rachel shook her head. If this was his attempt at flirting, then it would really get him nowhere. "We're in the same English class."

"Oh," Finn said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Rachel whispered softly. The rest of the walk was relatively uneventful and silent. When they reached the back room, Finn pointed out which locker was to be hers. He showed her the fridge, the minor collection of movies, and the drawings of most of the workers at Party City that Rich had done one day.

"So speaking of Kurt," Rachel began after Finn had pointed out a section filled with just Kurt's skin products. "When does he start?"

"Not till twelve," Finn said with a slight nod. "That means you're gonna be trained by Brittany."

"Brittany?" Rachel asked quickly. If she recalled correctly, Brittany was the name of one of cheerleaders who hung around Santana. She seemed nice enough, but Rachel had never considered her to be the working type. What else hadn't Kurt told her?

"Yeah, Brittany," Finn said. "Good luck."

Rachel spun on her heel—which was rather different in converse; she made a mental note to remember it later—to face a grinning Finn. "What do you mean good luck?"

Finn almost looked apologetic. "Brittany's cool. It's just that they always make her main cashier because she gets confused really easily."

"Great," Rachel muttered under her breath. Her first day and she was already at a slight disadvantage.

After nearly five minutes of Rachel reassuring Finn repeatedly that she didn't further require his assistance, he returned back to the front with a slight mope in his step.

Rachel sighed and looked around at the lockers, quickly finding hers and shoving her belongings into it. She looked around the lockers for a bit, trying to figure out the people who were about to be her coworkers. Rachel figured if she found common ground than maybe that would make bonding a lot easier, and this job would just be smooth sailing.

She quickly recognized Kurt's locker through the careful use of process of elimination and a bit of her psychic abilities. Well, that, and the fact that it was the only locker that had a picture of Lady Gaga on it. She slowly started acknowledging the owner of each locker as she continued to look around. Brittany's was covered in ducks and Finn's was decorated with football stars. Santana's was bare except for the picture of Clint Eastwood and the word "badass" scribbled underneath. Noah Puckerman's had something that seemed to resemble ladies underwear, Rachel really didn't want to make sure. There were a few others that were barely decorated but didn't seem to have a name or relate to one personality. There was one locker though that was completely bare, except for a scrap of paper. Rachel slowly leaned forward and squinted trying to read the scribble on the piece of paper.

She immediately shot back as she read what it said. Rachel looked around the break room, immediately expecting someone to jump out and scold her for being so nosy. She normally wasn't this frightened; Rachel had always been a brave girl. It was just…she would have sworn on the nose of Barbra that the piece of paper had said Quinn.

Quinn. As in the girl that almost everyone wanted to be, and everyone else wanted to be with. Rachel just couldn't believe her luck; Quinn and Rachel had always loathed each other. It wasn't the kind of loathing that drove each other to be better. It was the kind of loathing that was the cause of almost all Rachel's horrible days, and the reason she now avoided all Cheerios. Rachel quickly whipped out her phone and prepared a message to send to Kurt.

She quickly typed out a message that read:

_You never told me that Quinn Fabray worked here!_

It took less than three minutes for Kurt to respond back, which wasn't really that much of a shocker, considering just how much he was on his phone. He even took it with him when he went to the restroom, which Rachel just deemed to be extremely unsanitary and kind of gross. Rachel quickly flipped open her phone, fully expecting an apology, and instead received this:

_You never asked._

Rachel slammed her phone shut in frustration; it was going to be a long first day.


	2. I've lost more songs than floods

**I've lost more songs than floods**

(Chapter 2)

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything.

* * *

Customer service, for a lack of a better word, sucked.

Rachel was damn near at her wits end. No matter what she was doing the customers just weren't satisfied. They yelled, called her names, bickered with her over prices, tried to steal things and one person even tried to hit her nose.

Rachel honestly didn't know how Brittany managed. For a girl that Finn had just basically deemed air-headed, she was fairly calm through all of the chaos. Brittany was gracefully quick with orders. She calmed the customers with a sort of ease that amazed Rachel. When they called her names, Brittany just smiled and diffused the situation. When someone tried to argue about prices and how costly the store was Brittany would just kindly point them in the direction of The Dollar Tree and tell the customers that they always have a choice.

Rachel honestly didn't know what it was that Brittany was doing because when she had tried to say the same thing, the customer had screeched that it was rude to call someone cheap. As if it wasn't rude to yell at the employee.

It wasn't just Brittany though because everyone had their own little quirks that just seemed to work for them. Santana, who was normally so aggressive that it was intimidating, was disarming people with how direct she was. Whenever something needed to be done, Santana would do it. She never complained about the tasks (just the people) and she always completed everything in a timely manner.

Finn! Finn was a boy who Rachel would call sweet but obviously aloof to the situations around them. If it were anywhere else, the customers would be irritated, but here they found him charming. The customers laughed as he entertained them with stories of his own misfortunes and quickly calmed the crowds.

Rachel was obviously not getting something. She was a hard worker, she had a wonderful personality and she possessed verbal skills that allowed her to connect with almost anyone. Yet, she was the one who was being glared at on a constant basis. She was the one who the customers kept berating.

Rachel was the one who was only two hours into her shift and already had the desire to quit. She honestly didn't think she could survive another three hours of this. She was completely under the impression that it couldn't get any worse.

That was until Quinn Fabray walked in with all her glory.

There's nothing like seeing the person who is the cause of all your torment, enter the place where you work. It was really quite special actually. If Rachel wasn't so terrified she wouldn't have laughed at the irony.

Quinn walked through the double doors at a time when the store was relatively at ease. There were only one or two customers in the store, so Quinn took her time walking towards the registers to clock in. Each step Quinn took made Rachel uneasy but she figured that Quinn wouldn't do anything to her here, so she was relatively safe.

Quinn was dressed in the same uniform that Rachel was in but it was a little better fitting than Rachel's. She had her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and her nametag on her left side, hovering over her heart. Frankly, Rachel had never seen Quinn look more beautiful.

But of course she'd never tell her that.

"Hi Quinn," Brittany spoke airily before skipping over to Quinn and enveloping her in a hug. Rachel tried not to stare as she watched Quinn hug Brittany back.

"Hey Britt, how's it going today?" Quinn asked as she pulled away.

Brittany spun around Quinn, her body gliding gracefully in a circle as she started to follow Quinn to the registers. "It's fun."

Rachel resisted the urge to scoff. There was no way that today had been "fun".

"See anything worth mentioning?"

Brittany tilted her head as if she was deep in thought before shaking her head 'no'. Rachel didn't understand why Brittany was saying no, overall there had been way too many interesting things that happened. There was the fire next door, the power outage at the grocery store, the bum with the hello kitty mask. In fact, Rachel had seen more strange things in the past two hours than she had in her lifetime.

"There was a man talking to a tree." Rachel stated before she could stop herself.

At this point, Quinn had already reached the registers so that she was only a few feet away from Rachel, Brittany directly behind her. Quinn glanced at Rachel and for a second Rachel almost believed she was going to be hit with a slushy—which was ridiculous because there wasn't even a store around for miles that sold that. Instead Quinn just nodded her head in acknowledgement and Rachel released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Quinn held Rachel's gaze while she spoke. "Talking to a tree, huh? That sounds spunky."

"He was intoxicated." Rachel answered. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under Quinn's intense gaze.

Brittany shifted from foot to foot, a frown forming across her features. "I thought he just really liked trees."

A moment of silence passed before Quinn burst into laughter, effectively breaking their eye contact. Her laughter was light and musical to Rachel's ears and she couldn't help but feel like it was a shame that she didn't hear it more often.

In fact, Rachel can't remember the last time that she had heard Quinn genuinely laugh. She couldn't even recall hearing it back when they were stuck in the same 4-5 age dance class. The only thing Rachel could remember was a scary, silent man who glared at Quinn every time she fell. It was only made worse when Rachel noticed that Quinn flinched each time she fell too.

Rachel was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Brittany speaking again.

"Rachel has the same look she's had on her face all day. It's like she's trying to figure out what to do."

Quinn looked back towards Rachel who shrugged sheepishly.

Brittany stood on her tip toes so that her head came into view over Quinn's. "It's silly because all she has to do is smile."

Quinn moved her right arm over her left shoulder and rubbed Brittany's head affectionately. "Just cause it works for you, Britt, doesn't mean it'll work for everyone."

"Why not?"

Quinn continued to rub Brittany's head as her gaze continued to linger on Rachel. After a few minutes she lowered her hand and tilted her head to the side.

"Because you're special," Quinn stated, her eyes never once leaving Rachel's.

Rachel shivered when Quinn finally broke eye contact and turned around to give Brittany another hug. In normal circumstances, Rachel would consider this a victory because this was the longest that Quinn had gone without insulting her. But this was different somehow. This Quinn wasn't the same one who tormented Rachel in the halls, this isn't the one that placed itching powder in her sweaters freshman year. This Quinn is sweet and thoughtful and Rachel doesn't know if it's a victory to believe that your worst enemy isn't that bad.

"Come on Britt, I have some red gummy bears I saved for you in the back. Catch you later, Berry!" Quinn called over her shoulder as she walked to the break room with Brittany. Rachel couldn't help but smile. Quinn might not have called her Rachel but she hadn't called her any other names that she usually graced Rachel with.

Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad.


	3. I Can't Prove This Makes Any Sense

**I can't prove this makes any sense (but I sure hope that it does)**

(Chapter 3)

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything.

* * *

By the end of Rachel's first shift, she realized that the job of customer service was not difficult. The duties were reasonable. They were easy to perform and easy to understand. They were not difficult, dangerous, or cruel

The customers on the other hand, were difficult, dangerous, and cruel.

So far, Rachel's second shift was faring a lot better than that first. For starters, the insults had decreased massively. Instead of blatant insults to her face, Rachel was getting a lot more of the muttered insults. It worked for her because she could just pretend that the customers were muttering words of ecouragement instead of what they were actually saying.

It also helped that her first shift had taken place on a relentlessly busy Saturday while this one was currently taking place on a dull, dull Monday night. Sure, it was Rachel's first closing shift ever. However, she was also closing with Kurt and Santana.

Kurt was a savior. He had demonstrated all the tricks that he had picked up over the years and answered most of the questions that Rachel had. He helped her whenever she called and made things smoother. Kurt put Rachel at ease in a way that made her love him more.

Rachel could not say the same about Santana.

For a girl who had some serious anger issues, Santana also possessed a surprising work ethic. From what Rachel heard—okay, what she had overheard when she was pretending to clean the windows—Santana was the best worker in the store. That was also surprising. Rachel could not wrap her head around the fact that Santana actually listened to someone else and completed the tasks efficiently.

She also did not understand why Santana was even working in the first place. It was common knowledge that the Latina's father owned a Dentistry of his own that was hugely successful. As long as Rachel had known Santana, the girl had always had what she wanted. It didn't make sense why she would spend her summers slaving away at a minimum wage job when she could spend her summer living.

"How's it going, shortstack?" Rich asked, effectively breaking Rachel out of her current train of thought.

"Oh," Rachel began with a smile. "It's going really well. Thank you."

Rich chuckled in response, placing his hands on his belly. "It's that bad, huh?"

Rachel deflated quickly, a soft smile replacing her beaming one. She honestly really did like Rich. He was extremely sweet and a lot of fun to be around. He didn't pretend to care because he actually did care and he always tried to pay attention to everyone. He explained to her early on that since this store was so much smaller than the rest, it offered an exclusive type of environment. They had fewer workers, which allowed them to become more of a family. He told her that the store did so well because he cared.

His honesty had melted a few of the barriers around Rachel's heart.

"It's nothing that I can't handle." Rachel replied, her smile still in place.

Rich wiggled his eyebrows excitedly. "The bright side is that we're done!"

"What?"

"Yup, store is all closed down. I think the dynamic duo over there cut you some slack and just cleaned up for you. There wasn't that much left to do, anyway, so its time to get the heck out of here."

Rachel looked towards the double doors and noticed Kurt standing impatiently, shifting his shoulder bag from one shoulder to the other. Santana was standing right next to him, her leather jacket folded neatly over her arms and her headphones already in her ears.

"Oh. Okay. Cool." Rachel nodded her head dumbly and clocked out as quickly as she could, trying not to slow down the apparently "dynamic duo". She walked around the front counters and grabbed her jacket that Kurt had already brought up for her. She must have really been out of it to not notice the store closing down, or even Kurt bringing her belongings from the back.

Rachel continued to walk to the front doors with Rich trailing close behind her. He was whistling some song that Rachel could not quite place but it was enjoyable nontheless. Rich quickly punched in the code before giving them a nod. Rachel smiled and followed Kurt and Santana out the door. As soon as they were all outside, Rich quickly turned around and locked the doors before the alarm could sound.

"Well, Kiddo's. It looks like we're all another day wiser and another day richer."

Kurt snorted, his hair falling into his eyes as he laughed. "Speak for yourself."

"I'm still as broke as I'll ever be." Santana retorted with a smirk.

Rich turned towards Santana and grinned, "Not both rich in memories."

Rachel smiled at the exchange between the three. If she didn't know any better she would actually believe that the three people standing in front of her were friends. However, she was Rachel Berry, and she always knew better.

"Alright, I'll catch you guys on the flip side!" Rich yelled over his shoulder as he walked towards his car.

"Please don't ever say that again!" Kurt yelled back. Santana nodded in agreement as Rich's laughter reached their ears.

Kurt shook his head and turned towards Rachel. "Alright, BB, I gotta go have dinner with my dad. I'll catch you later." Kurt leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to Rachel's temple before jetting to his car. Rachel watched Kurt's retreating form as realization started to settle in her stomach.

She was alone.

She was alone with Santana Lopez.

She was alone with Santana Lopez at night.

It sounded like the beginning to a cliché horror movie. One that usually ended with the beautiful, yet naïve, star brutally murdered.

It was not that Santana was frightening. Actually, she was, but that was not the point. The point was that Santana Lopez was crazy. The girl had more emotional problems than a game of scrabble had letters. Every day Rachel had encountered a different side of the girl and she honestly was not sure which one was actually her.

Moreover, Santana was prone to do some outrageous things. Like when she set Noah's cat on fire or that one time when she had hid razor blades in her hair. Santana was the kind of girl who wrote reports on her aspirations to become a kick-ass assassin or her plans to dominate the world. She made up her own rules and just expected people to follow them.

Santana Lopez was freaking crazy and everyone knew that crazy was contagious. The only thing worse was being normal and Rachel would be damned if she ever became either of the two.

Rachel risked a glance at the Cheerio, who was busy looking out into the parking lot as if she was expecting someone to be there. Rachel assumed that the girl's ride was on their way and decided to head to her car. It had been a long day and she was ready to settle down with a nice cup of vegan cocoa.

As she started to walk, she caught something out of the corner of her eye that was so sudden, Rachel would not have noticed it if it had not been for those varius acting classes.

At first, Rachel believed that she was seeing things because she could have sworn that when she started to walk away, Santana's composure had deflated. It was as if she knew that Rachel was leaving so she didn't need to pretend anymore.

It is strange what a person notices when there is nothing else around to distract them.

Rachel turned around quickly and looked at Santana. The girl suddenly looked a lot more tired than she had before. Rachel looked, really looked, at the girl in front of her. She looked from the top of Santana's messy ponytail to the bottom of her worn out shoes. Literally, the shoes were falling apart. In fact, Santana was looking a lot thinner these days. Rachel could not believe she hadn't noticed it before. The Cheerio had always been skinny but she was looking tiny and that just wasn't Santana.

"What gives, smurfette?" Santana snapped impatiently.

Rachel's disarmed gaze met Santana's angry one. She was going to regret asking but the selfless part of Rachel just could not let it go. Something about Santana just did not seem right.

"Santana, I know that you probably don't consider us friends but…do you want a ride?"

"Kinky, Berry, but you're not my type. I don't care what type of equipment you happen to be packing." Santana sneered.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Santana, this is merely one coworker offering another coworker a ride for safety procautions. If you were to die that'd weigh heavily on my conscience."

Santana looked out into the parking lot. "Well, I can't say the same."

The gnawing feeling in the pit of Rachel's stomach started to grow. Rachel didn't understand what it was or why she even cared. As far as life experiences had taught her, Santana would not have offered her the same options. Santana would not have offered her anything.

It was just that something did not feel quite right about the girl and Rachel's sixth sense was hardly every wrong about these things. She was a bit psychic. Her fathers would testify to that.

"Just let me give you a ride." Rachel offered weakly. She was trying not to appear as eager as she was.

"I'd rather walk."

"You live all the way on the other side of town!" Rachel exclaimed irritably.

"I guess we'll have to add 'stalker' on your long list of extra curriculars, now won't we?" Santana quipped, her usual smirk placed delicately on her lips.

Rachel took a deep breathe as an attempt to calm her nerves. "It'll take you over an hour and a half to get there on foot."

Santana's smirk faded as she set her mouth into a thin line. She shook her head and slipped her arms into her leather jacket, slipping it on effortlessly. "It's nothing I haven't done before."

Rachel gaped as Santana walked away, clearly believing that this was the end of the conversation. None of this made any sense to her. Why would Santana's parents allow her to walk home in the dead of night? Where was the Cheerio's car? Why would she prefer to walk instead of get a ride? Santana honestly couldn't hate Rachel that much.

There had to be something else going on.


	4. All of the Fools Come Out to Play

**All of the Fools Come Out to Play**

(Chapter 4)

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything.

**Short Author's Note:** Hey guys! So, I hope everyone is enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I don't know how regular updates will be but I'm a fairly consistent person. Also, PLEASE read and review. I won't know if you guys like this story if nobody tells me(. Two more things:

Thank you to everyone who has already favorited this story/me, you are all awesome.

It's super early and I haven't had as much time as I'd like to clear all of the spelling mistakes/grammar errors. If you notice any, I do apologize. I'm kind of comma happy.

ENJOY!

* * *

"Sooooo," Kurt drawled out slowly, "what exactly are you trying to say?"

Rachel sighed for what felt like the fifteenth time in the past thirty minutes. A part of Rachel-the part of Rachel that had been teased since she was old enough to read—understood where Kurt was coming from. Why should Rachel put any thought into people who could barely be bothered to address her by her first name? It wasn't like any of them would do the same for her.

Rachel took a long sip of her chai tea before placing it delicately back on the table. "Kurt, I'm not saying that we need to build newfound friendships with any of our current co-workers. I'm just asking if you've noticed anything out of the ordinary concerning Santana."

Kurt rolled his eyes outlandishly, making it a point that Rachel sees how ridiculous he felt her questions were. He did not understand where her sudden interest was coming from to be quite honest. These "co-workers" were not their fellow peers, no matter what way Rachel wanted to look at it. They were their tormentors, the people who felt it necessary to ridicule Rachel and Kurt on an almost daily basis. Of course, he did not pay attention to them. He was too busy trying to protect all of his well-assembled outfits.

"Look, Rachel, I'm going to spell it out for you. I do not have time to pay attention to what any of those monsters are doing when it doesn't concern me or my attire. I am too busy trying to dodge slushies and dumpster tosses to actually wonder if Santana Lopez is friendly. Which, by the way, I am sure she is not. She is one of those people who was pretty much born loving Satan and all things mischief. In fact, her heart is probably incapable of growing three sizes on the account that she'd die from sheer emotion."

Rachel opened her mouth to speak when a body sliding into the chair next to her cut her off.

"He's got a point, Rach." Mercedes said as she took a swig of her coffee. She might not have caught the whole conversation but she did catch the end, and she did have a lot of experience dealing with Santana (or rather, a lot of experience avoiding her). That girl was two cartons of crazy and not the marshmallow ice-cream kind. No, she was like rainbow sherbert smushed into a 5-gallon tub. Shoot, now Mercedes wanted some ice cream.

"While I am inclined to agree with you on that, Mercedes, I wasn't trying to say that Santana was a good person. I was merely stating the fact that I think something is askew with her. She…I don't know, I think it's the worrier in me. I just want everyone to feel wanted and welcome." Rachel finished with a shrug. She placed her hands quietly on the table and looked down sadly.

Kurt shot Rachel an apologetic smile. He didn't want to squash the part of Rachel that made her…well, _Rachel_. Kurt just didn't want Rachel to get in over her head on another one of her fixer upper quests. The last time this happened, Rachel almost didn't make it out.

Kurt quickly covered Rachel's hand with his own, trying to comfort her the only way he knew how. "I know you do, Rach. It's one of the things that I adore about you…most of the time."

Kurt squeezed Rachel's hand as a small smile found its way to her lips. "I just want you to understand that just because we work with these people, it doesn't make us friends. It's a job, sweetie. We are civil to one another because we have to be. We all have the same end goal here and it isn't friendship."

A loud slurping noise drew both of them out of their shared moment. Rachel pulled her hand back before glaring at Mercedes. Mercedes shrugged in response and began the same process of slurping up the remaining contents in her cup.

Rachel smiled softly at Kurt. "You're right, Kurt. I'm sorry for getting so caught up in this."

"Of course I am and it _is_ okay. Now, let's get out of this Lima Bean that's trying a little too hard to be like Starbucks. Last time I checked there's a new Johnny Depp movie playing and I wouldn't mind catching it with my two favorite girls."

Mercedes smirked at Kurt. "Yeah, me neither."

Rachel rolled her eyes affectionately at her friends. She grabbed her coffee cup and started picking up alongside Kurt and Mercedes—who were far too caught up in their debate that they didn't even notice that Rachel wasn't really participating.

Rachel grabbed the trash off the table and headed over to dispose of all of it when she noticed something strange out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to get a better look as she headed back to her seat, but it was to no avail because when she looked back there was nothing out of the ordinary there.

Rachel shook her head silently. She was probably just imagining things again. Her daddy used to say that she was a "fixer-upper". She always had to fix a person or a problem because she wanted everything to be better for everyone. The problem with "fixer-uppers" was that when they finally ran out of things to fix, they often started _looking_ for things they could repair.

Mercedes laughed her full laugh that pulled Rachel away from her thoughts.

"What I don't understand, Kurt," Mercedes started inbetween gasps, "is why your father never asks you why you always want to see the new Johnny Depp movie or the new Ryan Gosling movie but you can't even be bothered to sit through Transformers."

Kurt shrugged. "It's a curse of the times. It's much more fashionable to be a hipster than it is to be a kid interested in action movies. At least, that's what I keep telling him."


	5. Louder Louder

**Louder louder (And we'll run for our lives)**

(Chapter 5)

**Pairings:** Eventual Faberry, Santana/Brittany

**Author's Note:** So, this chapter is also not nearly as edited, as I wanted it to be. I planned on posting it this weekend but I finished it early and decided to put it out there. It is by far the longest chapter I think I've written in a long time. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW, it helps me know who's enjoying this story and who isn't. I want to be clear that this is a multi-chapter fic that will probably take quite some time to get to the whole Faberry goodness. I made the mistake years ago of making things move way too quickly that even I didn't believe it. Anyway, ENJOY!

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything, I'm simply Borrowing them.

* * *

After spending a few hours with Mercedes and Kurt, Rachel acknowledged that perhaps they were both right. It didn't really matter what she thought was going on at that job because at the end of the day, none of them were friends. Her co-workers were civil to her for that very reason, because they were co-workers. They had every reason to be civil to her because there was money involved and money was the sort of thing that changed people—sometimes for the good, but more often for the bad.

The thing was though, that Rachel honestly didn't _want _to care about Santana. Heck, she didn't want to care about any of her peers that worked along side her. But at the end of the day, it was just who she was. No matter how much Rachel tried to rationalize it…she just couldn't make herself not care. It was ingrained into her very soul; it was a part of her that wouldn't disappear.

It was something she couldn't change even though she desperately wanted to.

Kurt often spoke to her as if she chose to be this way. Maybe she had led him to believe so. But, really, Kurt wouldn't understand where she was coming from because he _couldn't_. That's not to say that Kurt didn't know heartache because he most certainly did. But heartache and your heart literally aching were two very different, separate things.

What Kurt knew was pain caused by unforeseen circumstances. What Rachel _felt_ was life characteristics that developed because of ignorance.

You see; Rachel wasn't trying to diminish Kurt's pain—because to be quite honest, she didn't think it would ever be possible to do such a thing—she was only trying to distinguish her own pain. To be quite honest, there was a difference in people leaving because of misfortune and people leaving because of choice.

Kurt's mother loved him, wanted him. She didn't choose to leave Kurt's side.

It hurt, to know that all of her peers and all of the adults in her life left her alone because it was _easy, _not for her but for themselves. It hurt to know that they considered her a hassle and that they _chose_ to leave her to fend for herself, they chose to pick on her, they chose to _ruin_ her.

That kind of pain hit far too close to home. All of her life Rachel had people choosing things and every single time they never chose her. So, sure, Kurt understood pain and maybe he could even justify trying to help her. However, what Kurt would never understand is what it meant to be _Rachel_.

He would never understand what it felt like to wake up in the morning and wonder if you were going to spend your whole life alone. He didn't spend his mornings practicing his false smiles and empty hellos. He only knew the pain of death but he didn't know anything about the pain of _preference_.

She didn't have the heart to explain it to Kurt because she didn't want him to look at her as if she was some sort of rejected puppy. Pity was almost worse than undeserving hate. She couldn't handle any of it, all Rachel wanted was to feel wanted, preferred, and needed.

All Rachel wanted was to be _chosen_.

If Kurt knew about her inner desire, maybe it'd make more sense to him why she tried so hard to make everyone happy. It wasn't because Rachel had the strange need to fix things. It was because Rachel was holding onto the hope that somebody, someday, somewhere, would stop and look at her and just…they'd look at her completely different. They would see Rachel in a whole other light.

They would see her.

* * *

Rachel pushed open the double doors to Party City and tried her best to avoid all the people exiting the retail store. She was usually quite sly with her movements and was able to dodge even the quickest of people, but today she must have been off her game because she quickly crashed into one Noah Puckerman while rounding the corner of the aisle.

"Jesus, Berry. Watch where the hell you're going next time."

Rachel opened her mouth to respond but stopped when she was met with the weird smell of alcohol and what she thought was marijuana. Rachel quickly shut her mouth and moved out of Noah's way; completely careful enough to make sure none of her body part could come in contact with Noah.

Rachel tried to make eye contact to at least establish some sort of work relationship with her fellow co-worker. However, it seemed as though Noah had other plans because he quickly directed his eyes to the boxes of new product that was lying on the floor.

"Thanks, Berry." Noah grumbled out.

Rachel nodded in response as she took in his rugged appearance. The Noah Puckerman that stood before her was definitely not the same one who used to mow her parents lawn. This Noah looked older, mature even, which was strange considering he only stopped doing housework for her fathers about a year ago.

Noah had always been a handsome, nice boy. In fact, many years ago her fathers had been certain that when they got older, Rachel and Noah would somehow get together and have beautiful little Jewish babies. She had absolutely no idea what instilled that idea into their heads because even though he was handsome, Noah had always been a troublemaker. He liked to call attention to himself in moments that Rachel would have rather stayed silent.

Regardless of his warrior ways, Noah had most certainly always been a hard worker. It didn't surprise her that he'd have a job here. What did surprise her was the smell that must have been coming out of his pores. Noah Puckerman was standing before her an older, mature, _man_ who literally reeked of poor decisions.

It was such a shame because Rachel always believed that he could have gotten far. Noah had all the potential to go far in his life, far away from Lima, and far away from indecency and limitations. It truly was a shame.

"You're welcome, Noah. Hey! What are you doing?" Rachel exclaimed loudly as she witnessed Noah stuff a bag of candy down his pants.

"Nothing."

Rachel shot a glance over her shoulder, her head still spinning from shock. Why would he steal so obviously and so much? Didn't Noah care about his job? Didn't he care about himself? What if a manager noticed? Rachel placed her hand on her temple to still her nerves. This was way more intense than she needed today to be.

"Really?" Rachel asked. "It kind of looks like you just shoved candy down your pants."

Noah shook his head and grabbed another bag of Hershey Kisses. "Figment of your imagination, babe."

"Did I just imagine you shimmying a bag of kisses down your pants too?"

Noah stuck his hands up in the air as if he was insulted. A smirk spread over his face as he leaned in closer to Rachel, completely assaulting her nostrils with his strange stench. "Maybe. It's not my problem if you like to picture me doing kinky things in your head. You wouldn't be the first girl."

Rachel scoffed. "Don't be gross, Noah. I've known you since you were five…and stop putting candy down your pants!"

Noah shrugged and pulled away from the candy wall. "Whatever you want babe, whatever you want."

Noah gave Rachel one last smirk before turning around and heading out of the store, completely leaving Rachel in an aggravated fluster. Rachel closed her eyes; this job was most definitely starting to take its toll. She couldn't handle these crazy people in this crazy job with their crazy problems.

She wasn't cut out for retail. She couldn't do this. Her co-workers were obviously all hiding some serious defaults and issues that they would probably need extensive therapy for. She should have just accepted the job that Mercedes had offered her. Who cares if it was at a Gospel church? She could pretend to be a Christian. It wasn't that hard, right?"

"Um, Rachel?" Rachel heard someone ask; completely pulling her out of the intense freak out she was having in her mind. Rachel opened her eyes and was met with a disgruntled Rich. She took a moment to mentally note that this was the first time she had ever seen him look like he wasn't jolly.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Santana anywhere?"

A hundred answers raced through her mind. Things like: "why", "what", and "Unfortunately not, I don't take many trips into hell", all seemed like fine answers to her.

"Um. No." Is what Rachel settled on and she mentally cursed herself for not being loquacious enough. "Why?"

Rich bit his lip in worry. "Brittany won't come out of the bathroom and I don't know what to do. She's never been this sad before. Usually I just need to get Santana and she comes out looking better than new…for reasons that I hope are extremely safe and sanitary."

Rachel frowned. She didn't know Brittany very well but she did know that the girl was hardly ever in a foul mood. "Well, I'm not certain where Santana is but I can give it a try if you'd like."

Rich looked relieved as his posture deflated. "Follow me."

Rachel followed Rich through the back half of the store, past the break room, and into the little cove area where the employee bathrooms were. He point at the men's door and jerked his head, silently letting her know that that's where Brittany was located.

After a quickly whispered "good luck" from Rich, Rachel was sort of shoved into the men's bathroom her feet moving quickly underneath her to try and keep her balance. Rachel was silently berating herself for ending up in this situation. She didn't know what it was but she was constantly putting herself in the most awkward of situations just so she could try and please other people. This was worse though, because Rachel knew deep down that she wasn't comforting Brittany to be nice. Brittany was a nice girl that Rachel was certain had great qualities and would be a great friend, but no, Rachel wasn't comforting her to make Brittany feel better. Rachel was doing it so that maybe one of the Cheerios would notice her and maybe actually want to be nice to her…and God, maybe even want to extend some sort of offer of friendship.

"Santana?" A quiet voice mumbled from the corner of the bathroom.

Rachel made sure to keep her hands at her sides—to make sure she didn't touch anything at all—and was careful to not grimace as she headed over to the body heap in the corner. It didn't take very long for her to reach Brittany—who was curled into a ball, her face smashed in-between her legs and her hands over her ears. Rachel tried to find a comfortable position that didn't involve squatting down but after a few minutes she gave up and bent down into a crouch.

"No, Brittany, it's me Rachel."

Rachel's heart nearly broke at the sight of the red, puffy, watery eyes that met her own.

"Where's Santana?" Brittany whispered in a wobbly voice that caused slight tears to spring to Rachel's eyes. She was nothing if not easily moved, and her fathers had always said that Rachel was a bit of a crier.

"She couldn't make it. So she sent me instead." Rachel lied, hoping to get out of this situation quickly. The floor looked far too dirty for her to sit on and she was almost certain that the weird stench was coming from this sticky stuff on the wall. Rachel didn't even want to wonder what it could be.

"I want Santana." Brittany spoke before shoving her face back in-between her legs that were pushed into her chest.

Rachel sighed and bit the bullet as she sat down on the ground, trying to make sure none of her actual skin touched the floor. "Brittany, I know that I'm not Santana but you know what? She wouldn't have sent me in here if she didn't think I could help you. Just tell me what's wrong, okay?"

Brittany lifted her head and her gaze met Rachel's. Her eyes filled with tears again so quickly that Rachel was almost amazed. "Lord Tubbington ate Alfred the Clownfish today. He never even had the chance to make me balloon animals."

Rachel squinted her eyes in confusion. "Um. I'm sorry, Brittany. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Brittany shook her head and was quiet for a long time before she finally pushed out a response. "No. Everyone thinks I'm stupid but I'm not, you know."

"I believe you." Rachel said wholeheartedly.

"They just don't think about the world like I do."

Rachel nodded and scooted closer to Brittany. "I don't think anybody does, Brittany. But that's not a bad thing."

Brittany stared at Rachel for a while after Rachel's statement. She wasn't saying anything or even judging Rachel, Brittany was just looking at her. It was like Rachel was a piece of art and Brittany was trying to figure it out. It was the most uncomfortable moment Rachel had had thus far in life—and that's saying a lot considering she did enter that blind singing class—she didn't like it at all. Rachel felt like Brittany was unveiling all of her most valuable secrets and that Rachel was moot to try and stop her. It was devastatingly real.

Finally Brittany looked away and Rachel released a sigh that she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"I've tried to think like everybody else but it's just to hard, I don't get it." Brittany spoke softly. "I just wish that somebody would think like me because I get scared sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.

Brittany sniffed and looked behind Rachel's head as if she was trying to see something that wasn't really there. "I get scared. Today I got scared when Alfred died because I always thought life was like a movie."

"Okay?"

Brittany looked down at her hands before shifting them to pick invisible lint of her jeans. "Well, if life is like a movie…what happens when it's over? Does everything just fade to black? Would it have to be rewound to the beginning? Will anything even be the same the second time through?"

Rachel's thought process slowed for a second as she tried to comprehend what Brittany had just said. That was by far the most intelligent, philosophical thing Rachel had ever heard leave Brittany's mouth. In fact, she had never been crass enough to assume that Brittany wasn't intellectual but she had assumed that Brittany didn't think about things like that. The girl always seemed so easily pleased that Rachel just made the assumption that her thoughts and her desires were that as well, easy.

"Brittany…"

"I don't want Alfred to only know the credits, that's like the worst part of the movie besides the beginning. I don't want him to be forgotten just because he's a clownfish that wasn't very good at being funny. I don't want him to be replaced with a newer, better, funnier fish. But mostly, I don't want my life to fade to black and have to start from the beginning all over again because maybe I won't be Brittany next time, and maybe this new Brittany won't have the same old Santana or like gummy bears or dancing…and I don't want that. I don't want any of that. I want to stay this Brittany forever. I want to dance the dance of life—my life—and I want to feel like I'm in-between worlds. I don't want to fade away, I just want to feel it and to live it and to breathe it."

Rachel's breath caught as—in one swift motion—Brittany shifted from her current position and embraced Rachel in the tightest, closest hug that she had ever received. It was strange for Rachel because she had only ever received hugs from her fathers—and the last time she had gotten one of those was years ago. She had to make herself wrap her arms around Brittany's waist, as the girl cried into her shoulder, her experience in this area was just that uncommon.

Unlike what people probably saw, Rachel didn't have a lot of experience dealing with people. Well, people…yes. Friends? No. She didn't understand the emotional component that came along with having friends and as a consequence she also didn't have any of the comforting skills. It was true that Rachel was nothing like she seemed. She gave off a personality that oozed self-confidence, love and social interaction, but she didn't have most of those things. It was kind of ironic that she was nothing like the image she portrayed to the world.

But while stroking Brittany's—a freaking Cheerio, mind you—back as the girl sobbed into her shoulder over death and endings and sadness, Rachel had the strange realization that maybe she wasn't the only one who was pretending to be something she wasn't. In fact, maybe all of her co-workers were nothing like they seemed.

Rachel couldn't figure out if that was better.


	6. These Zombies in the Park

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing and I intend to make no profit off of my nothingness.

**A/N:** I apologize that this chapter is so late. I got caught up in work & a lack of sleep. Gosh, I know i really have no excuse. I hope people are still interested! This chapter is so lengthy (for plot reasons) that it kind of felt like pulling teeth all week. Heck, I'm still not satisfied with it but I'm just letting bygones be bygones and I'm posting it anyway. OKAY, a few things: PLEASE READ AND REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW IF THIS CHAPTER SOUNDS LIKE IT WAS PULLING TEETH. Also, the conversation that Quinn has with a customer? I was witness to this actual conversation between my co-worker and a customer. It's crazy what people say sometimes. ANYWAYS, ON WITH THE STORY.

* * *

**These Zombies in the park (they're looking for us)**

(chapter 6)**  
**

"Sooo," Kurt drawled, his focus never leaving the television screen in front of him. "What happened next?"

Rachel fiddled with the ripples in her skirt. " Absolutely nothing! I thought Santana was most certainly going to make me endure some sort of bodily harm-you heard those rumors about how she hides razors in her hair! She is utterly terrifying. But...I got nothing in response to me comforting Brittany."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a good thing?" Kurt asked, his fingers ferociously pressing multiple buttons on the controller in his hands. "Dammit! I died again!"

"No, I mean I got nothing. Not one member of the Unholy Trinity spoke to me. They just sort-of...stared. It's unsettling, Kurt. I think they're planning something!"

Kurt didn't respond, he just continued to press all the buttons on the controller religiously, a determined frown on his face. Rachel had never seen Kurt this worked up over something that wasn't directly (or even indirectly) related to fashion or showtunes. In fact, Rachel was completely unaware-until today-that Kurt even owned a gaming console, let alone knew how to use it.

"Kurt?" Rachel asked, trying to draw her friends attention away from the television screen.

"Hmm?"

"When did you become so enamored with video games?" Rachel asked bluntly.

Kurt's fingers slipped in surprise at Rachel's boldness. "Uh...recently."

Rachel nodded her head. "What brought this on?"

Kurt paused the game in front of him, stood up and turned to face Rachel, who was still leaning against his wall. While she wasn't the best at using subtlety, Kurt knew that his friend always had good intentions, so he tried not to look or sound as offended as he felt. "What do you mean?"

"Kurt, until today, I wasn't even aware that you knew what a Playstation 3 was. Let alone wireless controllers. Let alone how to use them. I apologize for all the usage of let alone, it is quite early and I've had a lot of coffee in anticipation of Santana kidnapping me."

Kurt rolled his eyes at Rachel's over dramatic mood. "I will admit that I usually surround myself with more softer, glamorous things."

Rachel snorted. "That's an understatement. _You_ made _me_ dress up for Wicked!"

"It's a crime not to! I didn't see you objecting the idea when the cast offered to take a photo with us."

"Kurt," Rachel stated sternly. "You made me dress up as Fiyero while you dressed up as Elphaba."

"Don't be bitter, Rachel. You know my skin blends better with green!" Kurt countered. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration. "I concede that this isn't normal behavior...for me. Finn recommended I play Assassin's Creed to relieve some tension, okay? He said that I've been a bit high-strung lately."

Rachel took in Kurt's crumpled form as she let the truth settle around her ears. Rachel didn't want to press the topic, not quite yet, because she knew from experience that this was a tricky web to dance around with Kurt. It wasn't completely her place to say anything, anyway, but she felt like she owed it to Kurt. He deserved to have someone be honest with him, even if it hurt.

Rachel smiled softly. "That, too, is an understatement-ow!" Rachel finished after Kurt shoved her playfully. Rachel took a few more minutes of comfortable silence before deciding to breach the topic that she knew Kurt didn't want her to. "What are you doing, Kurt?"

Kurt shrugged. "Playing Assassin's Creed. I just told you."

"You know what I mean."

Kurt pushed his lips together in a thin line, his gaze completely focused on Rachel now. He hadn't expected her to be so bold, so soon. But that was Rachel Berry for you, always going in guns a blazin'.

"Nothing. I just really enjoy playing these games." Kurt lied. Well, sort-of.

"Kurt," Rachel whispered urgently, her patience quickly disappearing.

A few minutes of complete silence passed by again as Rachel and Kurt had some strange show down with their eyes. After those few minutes, Kurt finally looked away guiltily. "Okay, okay! I admit that I started this as a way to get his attention."

Rachel shook her head sadly. "Kurt, you're my best friend, okay? Believe me when I say that what I'm about to tell you is for your own good and not just because I really want to use the greatest song ever made in a sentence...I'm not trying to rain on your parade, okay? But Finn seems to be one hundred percent straight."

Kurt's face tinged pink as he stepped away from Rachel. "I know."

Rachel nodded, still not quite understanding Kurt's intentions. If he knew that there was absolutely no chance of this thing with Finn actually turning into a _thing,_ then why did he continue to put himself thru such torture?

"Rachel," Kurt whispered sadly, his feet leading him to the end of his bed. "You have no idea how hard it is for me."

"I know it seems that way now, Kurt, but believe me, you will find someone soon who loves you back and who will tre-"

"_Rachel_," Kurt interrupted as he sat down on his bed. "You don't get it. Everywhere...everywhere I go, everything that I see, reminds me of what I don't have." Kurt raised his hand, effectively cutting Rachel off before she could even reiterate a response. "Movies, songs, work, people, this _fucking_ town," Kurt spat out disgusted, "always reminds me that there is no one around who understands how I _feel_. Not only is it difficult to explain to others how it feels to hide a part of myself constantly, or how it feels to be constantly reminded by the general population that I in fact, don't fit in...but I also get the added bonus of being surrounded by people I can _never_ have. Not because they don't like me back but because they physically can't, which doesn't change anything for me because I still get stupid, hopeless, crushes that I know will never amount to anything!"

Rachel stared, her mouth agape as she watched Kurt breathe in and out harshly. She had no intention...no idea, no anything that could relate to Kurt in this moment. She had always figured that her hurt was greater, grander, and more important because it was hers and it was personal. But she never stopped to consider that Kurt could have something as well.

"Kurt. I'm so, so sorry."

Kurt looked at Rachel and gave her a watery smile, his eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

A few days after the incident, Rachel still had yet to really speak to Kurt. He had asked politely to provide him with some needed space with a promise that he'd call her later.

He never did.

Rachel wasn't entirely sure what was happening because she wasn't really prepared in the world of friendships. Kurt was her only real friend and the whole relationship had been initiated by him, most of the time he ran the show. But Rachel Berry was always a girl of her word, and she had promised Kurt space, so she gave it to him.

She knew that her routine would have to continue with or without Kurt's presence, so instead of avoid work, she instead went in with a heavy heart-the whole incident with Brittany on the back burner in her mind.

Rachel paid no attention to the customers or the somewhat kind glare that Santana shot her way, instead she headed straight to the registers to clock in. The sooner she started her shift, the sooner she could end it and go back to thinking about this whole thing with Kurt.

She was so caught up in her meanderings that she almost didn't notice that Quinn was ringing today. Rachel paused her ministrations and took a second to fully take in the effortless beauty that was Quinn Fabray. As she stared at Quinn a little too freely, she noticed that Quinn was speaking to a small boy (who couldn't have been older than nine) and he looked incredibly upset. Rachel took a few steps toward Quinn's register so that she could have easier access to the conversation.

(Well, she never said she was perfect. Sometimes she was a little nosy.)

"But my mom is in the back of the store!" The little boy whined.

Quinn smiled softly. "I understand, but it's against company policy that I run your mother's credit card without seeing her identification...or you know, her. Just go grab her and I'll be able to finish this up for you okay?"

The boy nodded angrily before running a few aisles over. Quinn briefly made eye contact with Rachel-as Rachel pretended to be busy with something else-and just gave her a half shrug. Not even five minutes later the boy came stomping up to Quinn's register with a very irritated looking woman.

The woman glared at Quinn before practically throwing her ID at her. "I don't understand what the problem is, I was in the back of the store! I was barely fifty feet away."

Quinn nodded sympathetically. "I understand that, and I do apologize, but it is company policy that I see your photo ID before I can run a card as a credit purchase."

The older woman shook her head in irritation as Quinn handed her card and her photo ID back to her. She signed the slip that Quinn placed in front of her before speaking again.

"That's bullshit. You know what? No offense, but my son probably has a higher IQ than you."

Quinn's eyes hardened and Rachel's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe this woman had said such a thing to an employee, let alone an actual person.

The woman grabbed the bags that Quinn coldly handed to her. "It's okay though, because you're pretty." And with that the lady grabbed her son's hand and proceeded out of the store, leaving Rachel to gape at her and Quinn to glare.

There was absolutely nothing but silence for what was probably a few minutes-but for what most certainly felt like a lifetime. It occurred to Rachel that she had really been enduring far too much silence lately. It wasn't normal. Berry's didn't bode well in silence, they panicked and word vomit would just come tumbling out of their mouths. But worst of all, silence was something Rachel just couldn't bare. She didn't know what to do with it or what to do with herself. Silence made everything difficult and Rachel had way too much of it lately.

"Quinn," Rachel spoke softly, against her better judgement. The blonde raised her gaze to meet Rachel's, a look of indifference settled over her features. It was a little frightening to see Quinn so detached.

Rachel licked her lips. "For what it's worth, I completely disagree with that vile old woman. I mean, not the part about you being pretty-you are. I mean, you are pretty. And smart! I meant that I disagree with her statement about your intelligence, because yes, you are incredibly beautiful. But you're also incredibly smart. I would know, we've shared AP classes since the seventh grade and I know you're the one who's ahead of me for Valed-"

"Hey, Fabray!" Santana shouted as her and Brittany pushed thru the double doors that the child and his mother had just barely exited out of. "That poor excuse of a child that just left this store just came up to me and started groping my ass."

Santana frowned when she noticed the pissed off look on Quinn's face. She knew that look, hell, she spent years learning how to get Quinn to give her that look. Something freaky was going on, and not the good kind.

"What the fuck did I miss? Did Finnept let another rack fall on his head by accident?"

Rachel opened her mouth to speak but was efficiently cut off by Quinn-who had remained eerily silent up until now.

"Berry!" Quinn barked. "_Don't_."

Rachel nodded and watched as Quinn took off her nametag, her vest, and the stupid buttons that Rich thought would add personality and flavor to their uniforms. She watched as Quinn pushed past her and past Brittany and past a confused Santana.

Santana glared at Rachel briefly and turned to Brittany. "See, B? This is what happens when you invite the social pariah to an actual social event such as a party, they infect it with their awfulness."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That doesn't even make sense, Santana. Wait. What party?"

Santana ignored Rachel's question. "B, I told you it was a bad idea to invite shorty without telling Quinn first. You know how she gets pissy when we don't include her in shit."

Rachel lifted her hands up in a sort-of awkward wave. "Wait, invite me where? Nobody's invited me anywhere!"

"And it's going to stay that way if you don't shut up!" Santana shouted, her focus never leaving Brittany's face. "Whatevski, I gotta go...jog and shit." Santana mumbled before following Quinn out the door.

Brittany shrugged and skipped her way over to Rachel, her balance never faltering. "Santana is just mad because I told her to get you an invite into one of Puck's parties."

Rachel froze. "You mean, like, the parties that Kurt has been trying to get Puck to let him into?"

Brittany nodded and skipped around Rachel. She was feeling rather light today, like a cloud. Maybe she could be a cloud. Or the color orange. Not everyone could pull of the color orange, kinda like Christmas. Maybe Santa could pull off the color orange, or, wait. Rachel was still talking.

"Brittany! Do you understand what this would mean to Kurt? He wouldn't be able to hold a grudge against a freaking lion if you got him an invite to this. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Brittany nodded quickly. "Yes. Wait. Are you thinking that Zebras are just horses that are ready to party?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Um, no."

"Or that Lord Tubbington is clearly using his Nyquil addiction as a crutch for his low self-esteem?"

Again Rachel looked at Brittany confused. "...no."

"Oh. Then no. I'm not thinking what you're thinking."


	7. But My 'Why not me' Philosophy Began

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing and I intend to make no profit off of my nothingness.

**A/N: **You guys are awesome :). Big thank you's to everyone who has followed, reviewed, or even considered this story worth reading. I appreciate everything and love you all. Please excuse the mistakes, and as always, ENJOY.

* * *

**But My 'Why not me?' Philosophy Began**

(Chapter 7)

It should have been enough, the idea that three of the most popular girls in school were even considering inviting Rachel to an actual _party_ with actual people. Not like those fake parties that people tended to invite her to where nobody would actually show up and...anyway, it should have been enough.

Yet, Rachel wanted _more_.

Shortly after Santana departed, she came back with a colder looking Quinn in tow. There wasn't anything terribly different about her, except in her eyes. They looked a little bit colder, a little bit older, and for the life of her Rachel couldn't figure out _why_.

Sure, what the lady had sad was insulting. But it was hardly the worst thing in the world. In fact, Rachel would have killed to be called _pretty_ instead of the usual slate of insults she was privileged to on a daily basis.

It was sort-of ridiculous that Quinn was even insulted on that front. Okay, being offended by the insult on the Cheerio's intelligence was understandable because Quinn was the smartest person that Rachel knew-outside from herself, of course-but being insulted because someone else thought you were pretty?

Well, Rachel would have killed for that opportunity.

As much as she put on a brave face for the world around her, it still hurt when her peers insulted her physical appearance. Granted, she was always more insulted when they insulted her talent, but _still. _

When her peers made comments about her personal appearance, Rachel always took it as a hit towards her fathers. It didn't really matter what anyone else said about the matter because as far as Rachel was concerned, they were insulting her genes and she got her genes from her fathers and she would go to the grave defending those men.

Sure, they weren't the greatest. But who's parents were? They loved her and they created her and at one time they only wanted the best for her. Maybe things had changed a little over the years, maybe their priorities have shifted along the way, but at one point they were the perfect parents. They weren't always bad and Rachel owed it to them to be good.

That was neither here nor there, because at the moment Rachel was far more concerned with getting an invite for herself-as well as Kurt-to this party.

"Hell, Santana." Rachel started smoothly, sliding next to Santana, who was currently fixing an end cap for one of their Fourth of July displays. Santana rolled her eyes and shifted her focus back to the task in front of her. Rachel cleared her throat and continued on with what she had been about to say. "Soooo, you said something about a party invitation earlier?"

Santana rolled her eyes again, her focus never leaving the display in front of her. "Could you be any more eager, Berry?"

"I'm not eager!"

"Please, you're practically foaming at the mouth. It's nauseating."

"Santana!" Rachel scolded before dropping her voice into a whisper. "It's just...I've never been invited to one of these things before, it's thrilling."

Santana snorted as her gaze finally met Rachel's. "No shit, Sherlock. It doesn't take a genius to notice how you look like an attention deprived puppy who just got a shot of Redbull on his birthday."

Rachel pushed her eyebrows together confused. What did that even mean? "What does that even mean?" Rachel repeated, just out loud this time.

"Look," Santana started in a whisper. "Let's not pretend this is something it isn't, okay? You didn't suddenly grow fucking wings and become all cool and shit over night. I owe you for that shit you did for Brittany, alright? So...yes, Rachel. You're invited to the party this weekend."

Rachel froze as the last sentence left Santana's mouth. Her brain almost seemed to stop functioning and this really weird unsettling feeling took over in the pit of her stomach.

"What did you say?"

Santana shot a confused glance towards the singer. "You didn't grow wings?"

Rachel shook her head in a daze. "No. No! You...you called me Rachel."

Santana raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Well, I was gonna call you Hobbit but your name-tag says otherwise and I didn't want the customers to get confused. Since it's so easy-what the hell?" Santana finished angrily as Rachel pushed passed her in an effort to get to the bathroom, a hand covering her mouth and her eyes looking awfully queasy.

"What happened?" A soft voice to Santana's left spoke.

Santana looked over towards the blonde and shrugged her shoulder in her usual Carpe Diem fashion. "See, this is what happens when I'm nice to people, Britt's. I call them by their name and they just start vomiting uncontrollably. I might as well just be mean."

"Santana," Brittany warned.

"Hey," Santana started defensively. "At least I roll my eyes at these bitches in front of their faces when their being dumb, unlike every other fake person in this establishment. I mean, have the courage to do that shit to my face."

"Santana," Brittany repeated sternly, her lips pushing into a thin line.

Santana put her hands up in the air in resignation. "Fine! Jesus, I already invited the little thing to tomorrow's party."

"It's tomorrow?" Rachel exclaimed in surprise. Causing both Cheerio's to turn around in confusion, both unaware that the diva had returned.

"No." Santana stated.

"Yes." Brittany confirmed, sending a head bob towards Santana and her hands waving around in a weird gesture.

Santana sighed. "I meant yes, it's tomorrow. Try not to look like an underage hooker, alright?"

Santana saluted Rachel and grabbed Brittany's hand. "If anyone tries to get you into their car, you tell them you're underage."

Rachel stared at the retreating backs of the Cheerio's. She was as equally confused as she was interested. On the one hand she had a highly valuable and probably notoriously sought after invite to an actual _party_. But on the other hand...well, on the other hand Santana was just plain rude.

At this point Rachel almost didn't care. She was honestly starting to believe that Santana's cruelty was just ingrained inside of her at birth, because even thought the things Santana said were offensive, Santana didn't seem to even think they were. Or even believe they could be. Wait, what was it that Santana said?

"Wait!" Rachel called out. "I am underage!"

"Tough shit." Was the reply she got back.

* * *

After a somewhat terrible closing shift-where Rachel spent a third of it looking for Santana and Brittany, who had apparently taken off into the storage closet to do...things-Rachel retreated to her best friends house to give him some very welcome news.

She could have delivered the news about the party via text messaging, but Rachel was a performer. She lived off of the applause and expressions and words of praise from others. It wouldn't be nearly as thrilling if she wasn't able to see his face.

After knocking on Kurt's front door twice, she was greeted with the presence of Mercedes.

"Hey, Mercedes!" Rachel spoke cheerfully. The girl in front of her just shrugged and stepped aside to let Rachel in. "Where is he?"

Mercedes pointed up the stairs and waited for Rachel to pass her before following the singer up the stairs. She was in no mood to get back to what she had spent her whole day with. Kurt was moody, distant, and a drama queen. Mercedes had tried everything she could and still the boy insisted on being trouble. The only reason she was even following Rachel up the stair was because she a little envious of the relationship that Kurt and Rachel shared. If Rachel was going to be able to cheer Kurt up, then Mercedes wanted to be present so that she could file it into her memory. It was no fun being the second best friend.

Kurt would disagree and argue her point, but sometimes you don't have to see things to know. Sometimes you can just tell. This was one of those times.

Rachel pushed past the oak door and entered into a dimly lit room. She glanced around the bedroom until her gaze settled on a lump that was lying in the middle of a queen sized bed. Honestly, sometimes Kurt could be a little dramatic. Just because he was upset, didn't mean he had the right to hole himself up all day. What if Rachel had needed him?

Rachel cleared her throat loudly. "Kurt. Did you really spend your whole day moving from one side of the bed to the other?"

The lump on the bed scoffed before responding with a very loud "No."

Rachel looked over towards Mercedes for support, but the girl just shrugged in response. "It's not technically a lie. He had to get up to feed himself."

"See? Mercedes would never lie."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Kurt, I have great news that will get you out of this bed!"

There was a moment of silence before the lump spoke. "Taylor Lautner finally came out?"

"No," Rachel laughed. "We were formally invited to a party."

Quicker than Rachel had ever seen anything, the lump in the bed shot up to reveal an exciting looking Kurt. "You mean...like a par-tay, party?"

"Well. Santana informed me that they don't actually call them 'PAR-TAY'S', but yes."

Kurt jumped out of bed in a flash and gave Rachel a huge hug, practically squeezing the life out of her. This had been his life dream-which in retrospect, he should had probably reached a little bit higher. But, HELLO. He was from _Lima_. Anyway, parties like this were hard to come by. They were the type of things that everyone knew about but only a select few were invited to. They were filled with all kinds of people: gay, straight, bi-sexual, curious, etc. Kurt honestly didn't care what Rachel had to do to get them an invite. It wasn't lost on him that people of their caliber could never be invited to party involving wealthy, pretty, privileged kids. But it didn't matter because Rachel had got him _in_.

"Oh my God, Rachel! I love you!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly.

It was in that moment-as Mercedes watched their interaction and celebration from a corner-that the girl in question realized that she might not be too fond of Rachel Berry anymore.

Not fond at all.


	8. Blame it on my ADD Baby

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing and I intend to make no profit off of my nothingness.

**A/N: **I thank you all for sticking with this story. I realize there hasn't been a lot of Faberry interaction, but I kind of wanted to make sure that I established other relationships first. I tried something a little different this time, let me know if you guys enjoy this. I apologize for all spelling errors, YO. STAY LOVELY MY PEOPLES.

* * *

**Blame it on my ADD Baby**

(Chapter 8)

**Quinn's POV**

Quinn was turning into a curious soul this summer.

She would be lying if she said that she hadn't changed dramatically from the girl she started this whole adventure as. From the girl who rose up from Lucy. It didn't bother her at first though b/c Quinn barely knew what was happening. The change wasn't sudden, it didn't seize her with surprise, it didn't take her breath away.

In fact, it all started with a dream.

In the dream she was the same Quinn. Well, except she was different. Her face was softer, her movements more fluid, her laugh real. Dream Quinn was happy.

At least she started that way. Dream Quinn would laugh and breathe and look so careless as she got into a car. Dream Quinn would look around at her passengers (Brittany, Santana, and oddly enough Rachel) smile, and slide into the drivers seat. Dream Quinn would start the car as she listened to Brittany laugh, reverse as she saw Santana's smile reach her eyes, and drive as she heard Rachel sing. She would breathe it in but even more, she would feel it.

And just when Quinn would get used to the feeling, just when she felt her defenses ease. Surprise would seize her as well as the car and before Quinn could grasp her bearings, everything would be upside down.

The car would be destroyed, the air ceased it's humming, the singing would disappear. Instead, when Quinn opened her eyes she would see Brittany covered in blood, her body stuck in the windshield. She would see Santana in pain, immobile due to the passenger door crushing her. She would see Rachel and her lifeless eyes, her quiet voice.

And Quinn? Quinn would always just be there. Her subconscious was never kind enough to let her wake up until after the images were ingrained into her mind. Sure, it was just a dream. But it felt so real. The dream haunted her continuously, not only b/c it decided to plague her sleep every night, but b/c of the things that the dream led to.

Quinn was no longer disillusioned. She no longer held the belief that time was endless, that possibilities were always in reach. These things, these hopes, slowly slipped away with every dose of reality.

In the end, she just felt incredibly lonely.

She looked around and saw everything that her father had worked for and couldn't figure out why it was worth it. For all of their material wealth, her father still seemed incredibly pained & her mother incredibly sad.

They drank and they drank and they drank.

And Quinn would watch from afar as they soothed themselves with liquor, and belongings...and more liquor, and she would just feel so vile. Her future would look so bleak, it would look so much like her mothers that Quinn couldn't help but feel sick to her stomach.

Was it normal to feel so lonely when you were so young? To feel so disconnected and so lost? To hope that someone, somewhere, would understand what it meant to be surrounded by people yet feel so alone?

So maybe she was also a little depressed.

It (death) didn't allude her anymore. Where she had once had reinforcements that she could live forever, she now had reminders of her mortality. Where she once spent moments contemplating how to be the biggest thing at McKinley High, she now spent it recognizing how she was just a small thing in the world.

So, sure, it was nice that the lady thought Quinn was pretty. But what did that mean in the whole grand scheme of things? Where did that place her when her looks faded and death stood a little closer?

Quinn most certainly didn't want to die, but she almost as certainly didn't want to die as the girl who _**used**_ to be pretty. She didn't want to spend her life alone, nor spend it surrounded by people while she numbed herself.

She couldn't be her mother.

That's how Quinn Fabray-Head Cheerio of McKinley High, prettiest girl in school, 1/3rd of the infamous Holy Trinity-found herself seated next to four drunk freshman cheerios at Puckerman's latest party.

She was pushing herself and trying to make everything feel a little more alive inside of her. But it was so damn hard.

"Yo, Q. Liven your shit up a bit. You're not the Great Wall of China, nobody is trying to get inside of you alright?" Santana shouted over the music, glaring at the freshman girls until they got up and left the couch.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, completely offended by Santana's comparison. "Gross, Lopez. Must you always be so crass?"

Santana shrugged before handing Quinn a beer with what looked to be a shot in it. "As long as you look uptight, I'm gonna be crass. Looks like we might be stuck this way forever!"

Santana sighed when Quinn didn't laugh or even break a smile at her joke. She sat down next to the head cheerio on the couch. "Look, all I'm saying is that you should have a little fun. Drink a little...you know we won't let shit happen to you."

Quinn relented and slumped forward, pretending to smooth out the wrinkles on her grey skirt. It was a cute outfit if not anything else, but it was also an outfit that Santana had picked out and Quinn wasn't entirely comfortable in a skirt that was this short and not her cheerleading uniform.

"What about work?"

"What about it?" Santana replied quickly.

Quinn turned towards her second in command with a serious look settled over her features. "We have to work at ten. What if they notice?"

"Our job is like a nagging girlfriend. The more they bitch, the less I listen." Santana deadpanned, only smiling when Quinn finally let out a laugh. "Look, I'm not saying you should go all 'Girls Gone Wild', okay? Just kick back and have some fun like everyone else. I mean, look at Berry! As sickening a sight as it is to see...even the smurf is having fun." Santana finished off her statement by pointing to the corner at an obviously drunk Rachel Berry who was busy dancing dirtily with three of the boys from the football team.

Quinn frowned at the spectacle in front of her. Sure, she really didn't care about Rachel Berry. The girl was a hassle most of the time, but Quinn also didn't care for date rape. Which was clearly what Rachel's night seemed to be heading towards. Quinn looked around the party trying to spot Rachel's comrad.

"Where's Kurt?"

Santana gulped down the rest of her drink. "Porcelain? Fuck if I care. I think he went off with Mr. Fancy."

"Mr. Fancy?" Quinn echoed curiously.

Santana nodded. "Yeah. That dude with the eyebrows? Puckerman said the guy is in some club with his cousin Sebastian and is like, top shit at their private school."

"Huh." Quinn started. "What about Rachel?"

Santana frowned as she leered at Quinn's untouched drink. "I really don't care. Look, you're supposed to down that shit right away."

Quinn rolled her eyes affectionately. Leave it to Santana to only be concerned with the alcohol. Quinn didn't complain though, she knew this was her best friends way of trying to make sure Quinn had a good time. Santana wasn't so good with the feelings, but she was a girl who was built on loyalty. Quinn had had Santana's back for as long as she could remember & as a reward Santana had always had hers. So she quickly chugged the cup that Santana had handed her as a means to calm the brunettes nerves.

"That stuff isn't half bad."

"Told ya." Santana smirked knowingly and handed Quinn another drink.

Quinn wasn't going to even question how Santana grabbed another drink so quickly. She just watched her second in command down the beverage like it was her own personal brand of water.

"You know, S," Quinn said as she was raising the cup to her lips, "this isn't going to make it better."

Santana's demeanor deflated for a minute before rebuilding itself back up again. "I know, Q. But that will."

Quinn looked in the direction that Santana was pointing and felt her heart light up at the sight of Brittany. If there was anything in the world that could make her believe that life was worth something, it was Brittany. The girl was so full of life and so full of happiness that Quinn couldn't be negative with her around.

"Why are you guys staring at me like that? Did you find out that Lord Tubbington has picked up smoking again? It's okay, you don't have to worry about hiding it from me because I already know. For a cat, he's not very sneaky."

Brittany's statement seemed to break Santana out of her love induced haze. She jumped up from her position on the couch and grabbed Brittany's elbow.

"That's my cue to leave if you know what I mean. Catch you later, Q!"

Quinn was always amazed at how curious of a couple Santana and Brittany were. You could literally not find two any more opposite people in the world. And yet...their dynamic worked just as well-if not better-than hers and Santana's did.

It was oddly beautiful but also thoroughly distracting. So Quinn chugged the rest of her drink and stood up. She could have fun at this party, depressed or not. She was Quinn freaking Fabray. She could do this shit.

* * *

Two drinks, eleven songs and three attempted pick-ups later, Quinn was completely mellowed out. She danced, she twirled, but most of al she had fun. All without worrying about anything that had been plaguing her mind lately.

But the music was loud enough to drown out all of her thoughts, the bass bouncing off the walls and traveling through the floor loudly. And the party was so packed that Quinn found herself distracted by more & more new people. She didn't have to think about things with others around to distract her.

Every few minutes or so Santana would come over and give Quinn another drink. Santana made sure that Quinn never grabbed a drink from any other party goer. Quinn was certain that because of Santana, that was the reason she was legitimately less drunk than everyone else at the party.

In other words, they were all on something a little extra. More specifically, Rachel Berry was incredibly faded, intoxicated, and high of something.

Normally Quinn wouldn't care enough to pay attention to Berry. But these dreams were fucking with her, they were changing things and shifting her priorities and making her more of a person.

Quinn hated it.

She hated looking at Rachel and feeling something that wasn't hate. She hated not knowing and she hated caring as Rachel stumbled across the floor before falling on her butt near the couch. Quinn shook her head disapprovingly, where the heck was Rachel's so called best friend anyway?

Against all better judgment, Quinn felt her feet carry herself towards the brunette. She was incredibly tipsy but she was also a Fabray. Quinn thanked her mothers special gift of being able to appear more sober than one really was as she bent down and became eye level with Rachel.

"Quuuuuuuiiiiin!" The girl slurred, her eyes opening & closing lazily.

"Berry." Quinn acknowledged.

"Quinn," Rachel started slowly. "Quinn. I'm drunk."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I can see that. I'm going to try and get you up, okay?"

"You're less scary when I'm drunk."

"Thank you?" Quinn slowed her efforts as Sail by AWOLNATION started playing. The people at the party started dancing all crazy-like and Quinn didn't want to lose her balance and fall on top of Rachel. So she stilled her hands & tried to think of a decent way to pick up the brunette who was sliding all around the floor.

"Oh my god!" Rachel's eyes widened comically as she attempted to pull herself up from the floor. When she failed she launched herself into Quinn's arms, holding on for dear life. "It's an earthquake! We're in an earthquake! Run, Quinn!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. Holy mother of pearl, Rachel was extremely fucking wasted. "Berry, that's the bass from the song. We live in Ohio, not in Kansas."

Rachel didn't get Quinn's Wizard of Oz joke, but she didn't really care either. She buried herself deeper into Quinn's embrace. Well, if you could call it that. The blondes arms still stayed motionless at Quinn's sides.

"Quinn, you're warmer than a lizard."

"Berry, you're weird."

"Am I wrong?"

Quinn rolld her eyes affectionately. "Let's go outside, okay? And no. You're not wrong."

Rachel nodded and allowed herself to be steered outside by the head cheerio. She almost couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to get this drunk. Rachel had honestly not come to this party with the intention to drink alcohol. But then Rachel had arrived with Kurt and he kicked it off with that boy so well and...Rachel was reminded of how inredible unsocial she was in these instances. She didn't know how to connect with her fellow peers in a way that made sense, so she had a drink. Soon one drink turned into two, which turned into more than Rachel wanted to admit.

Rachel sighed as Quinn helped her lower herself onto the stairs, until they were both sitting side by side on Puck's stoop.

"You look very pretty, Quinn."

Quinn tensed up automatically at Rachel's words. But she tried to brush off the feeling with a joke. "You don't have to be nice to me just because I saved you from having your own little version of the Hangover. Just buy me a gift card."

"I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. This is just the closest you've ever been to me without threatening me in some capacity, and I couldn't _not_ let you know."

Quinn shuddered as Rachel's words washed over her. Had she always been that cruel? "I'm sorry for it, you know?"

"Don't say things you don't mean, Quinn." Rachel replied softly. She looked out into the night, the cold slowly sobering her up.

Quinn shooke her head in response. She didn't mean to have this conversation. Even so, it still felt wildly overdue. "I don't. It's true. I mean, I'm sorry that it was you we chose to ruin. But I'm not sorry that I had to choose someone."

"Thanks for your honesty. Even if it's pretty fucked up."

"Yeah, shit just got real didn't it?" Quinn said with a small smile, her body turning towards Rachel's.

Both girls burst out into laughter before falling into an easy silence.

"Quinn?" Rachel called out into the open air.

"Yes?"

"I...I want you." Rachel started softly, the words tumbling out of her mouth and into the open sky. She felt them find a place to lay as they waited for a response. It took a few minutes for Rachel to realize how awkward the sentence sounded. As soon as she realized what the beginning of her sentece alluded to, Rachel quickly pushed out the rest of the sentence to finish. "I want you to like me. Is that bad?"

Quinn turned away from the brunette and focused her gaze on the sky. She released a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding and frowned as she felt her stomach drop. She didn't like the way that her body was reacting to Rachel's statement or how this night was ending. She shouldn't have been out here with Berry. She should be inside picking out her newest conquest that'd only take her that much higher on the social food chain this next year. She should have been plotting and deciding and thinking, she shouldn't be outside trying to live b/c this wasn't the future that Quinn Fabray was destined for. For as long as Quinn had been aware, she knew her future would consist of Lima and marriage and unhappiness. She was destined to stay here and she shouldn't have wanted more, Quinn should have been satisfied.

Quinn shouldn't have been associating with the likes of Berry. Not just because the girl was social pariah in a place like Lima, but because Quinn knew that the girl was destined for something far bigger and better than she was. Of course she knew Rachel would go far. Everyone did. But that didn't mean that they would all make it easier for her. It was Rachel's job to make it in every way that Quinn wouldn't, just like it was Quinn's job to make sure that their lins never intersected, their roles never shifted from what they were supposed to be.

Quinn shouldn't have been out there, she should have shut Rachel down and went on her own unhappy way. But that dream was fucking with her and Quinn was finding herself more and more willing to change things. She craved the Quinn who seemed happy in her dreams instead of the lifeless one she had in her reality. She craved change. She craved _something_.

"No," Quinn began against her own judgment. "No, it's not bad at all."


	9. Dance My Pain Away

******A/N: I owe you all a huge apology. This is way too late and I honestly wasn't even sure if it was what I wanted...but I like it well enough so D:. I'm sorry for disappearing so long and that this is so overdue. Also, there's a quote at the end which is from a song. Double Also, let me know if you guys like this chapter because this sort of thing recently just happened at my job and i feel like I'm projecting but that it also works. Anyway, I apologize for the mistakes and I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

**Dance My Pain Away (I will learn from my mistakes)**

(Chapter Nine)

Rachel Berry was not the type of girl to get up to shenanigans, she wasn't a careless hooligan for crying out loud...she didn't do crazy things. But Rachel was in a really weird place at the moment.

Not physically, but you know, _mentally._

At first Rachel thought it was because of her poor decisions at Puck's party. But considering that she couldn't even remember it, she had to figure that that wasn't the case.

Well. That wasn't completely true.

Rachel remembered arriving and she remembered dancing with numerous boys. She remembered Finn's googly eyes towards her & Puck's leering at their co-worker Tessa-which, by the way, someone should let him know he's barking up the wrong tree-and then everything after that gets a little hazy.

Rachel thinks that she might have kissed someone. But she also thinks that she saw Barbra herself, so Rachel just chalked it all up to weird alcohol hallucinations.

Anyway, the point was that Rachel drank herself into a point of oblivion. She drank because it was easy and drank because...well, because it made her feel better. She drank and she drank and she drank.

And she remembered _nothing_.

It was a little horrifying at first to realize that somewhere in between fitting in and standing out, she became _that_ girl. The one who doesn't know when to stop, can't bring herself to say no. The girl who did things until they were easy and until they didn't have to anymore

The girl who drank until she blacked out.

Rachel was scared. The worst part though was that she couldn't figure out if she was scared because she drank herself into alcohol suicide or if she was scared because she had enjoyed it.

Not the alcohol or the hangover or the blackout, but Rachel enjoyed the ease of not having to think. She enjoyed living without worry and enjoyed feeling free.

She enjoyed being _invisible_ for once, and maybe that was the scariest part of all.

Maybe she was the scariest part of it all.

* * *

By the time Monday had rolled around Rachel had decided that the best way to figure out the cause of these feelings-the feelings associated with drinking and Puck's party-then she was going to have to go to the source.

_**Santana**_.

She wasn't really the source of anything-except maybe of evil-but she was one of the people at the party and she'd be easier to talk to than Quinn and easier to understand than Brittany.

Which was what led Rachel to the conclusion that if she wanted answers, if she wanted to get to the bottom of whatever _this_ bottom was...then she'd have to face Santana. With her head facing straight ahead and her shoulders rolled back, Rachel walked determinedly into Party City.

Monday's typically meant that Santana was working in back stock so Rachel did her best to avoid the customers and just headed straight into the back room. Now that she had the general layout of the store figured out it was much easier to avoid unwanted customers and often unwanted coworkers. By the time she finally reached the back of the store Rachel released a sigh of relief, happy she didn't have to deal with any unnecessary conversations.

Rachel reached for the handle of the room that led to the back door but completely missed it when the door swung open and she came face-to-face with Finn Hudson. A Finn Hudson who had an incredibly weird smile plastered across his face. Gosh, perhaps she had spoken too soon?

"Hey Rachel!" The boy began enthusiastically. "I was wondering if maybe we cou-"

Rachel threw her hand up to effectively cut off the boy. "Not now, Finn. I have some business to discuss with Santana. So if you could please give us a minute or two, I would be greatly appreciative."

Finn smiled his weird smile again and stepped to the side. "Anything for you, Rach!"

Rachel nodded curtly and pushed past Finn. She let the door slam slam shut behind her so that she could catch Santana's attention. It didn't really work since Santana's attention didn't move from the boxes that were placed in front of her or from the clipboard in her hands.

"God. If Finn were any more up your ass he'd be your bowel." Santana muttered disgusted.

The way that Santana was speaking threw Rachel off guard and instead of opening with what she wanted to, she found something else leaving her lips entirely.

"Did...something happen with Finn at the party?"

Rachel could practically hear the cheerio roll her eyes. "Thankfully no. Q did your annoying ass a favor."

Rachel frowned confused. "What do you mean?"

'What I mean," Santana started as she turned around to face Rachel, "is that looks fade. But a shitty personality? That fucking lasts forever. And Finn Hudson? Well, he's practically the poster child for a shitty personality."

Rachel forced herself to not roll her eyes at Santana's crass language. For such an intelligent girl, Santana really did resort to a lot of useless language. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? It seems as though Gollum has finally found his ring."

"Did you just make a Lord of the Rings reference?"

Santana shrugged. "Maybe I did. The fucking point is that you were dancing with every goddamn boy at the party who was willing and at some point Finn Hudson set his sights on you. Be thankful, because you could be knocked up at an IHOP somewhere right now. I told Quinn to just let you go but the girl fucking refused."

"Why?" Rachel asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. She had to admit that it was intriguing to know why the girl who never cared about her randomly decided to save her.

"Because I don't give a fuck. So why would you expect me to give two?" Santana replied. As if it was the most obvious answer in the world and Rachel was too stupid to get it.

Rachel sighed in frustration. "Not that! Why did Quinn help me?"

"It's Quinn, Berry. Nobody fucking knows."

"Oh." Was the best thing that Rachel could come up with now that her mind was reeling with all kinds of things.

Santana's face softened a little as she looked at Rachel. "Look, Frodo, I don't know what you want me to tell you or why you're even here on your fucking day off, but I don't think I have your answers, alright?"

"I just..."Rachel trailed off softly. "I just thought I did something I shouldn't have. I guess I remembered it wrong."

An evil smirk crossed Santana's face. The type of smirk that made Rachel extremely uneasy. "Completely wrong, Berry."

Rachel's response was cut off by the door opening and a blonde girl bombarding her the the tightest hug known to man. After a few minutes Rachel felt her breaths starting to shorten.

"Brittany, Brittany! I can't breathe."

Brittany pulled away from Rachel sheepishly. "Sorry, Rachel. I'm just so happy you're a part of foursquare."

"As in the app?" Rachel frowned completely confused.

Santana started coughing, effectively pulling Rachel's attention from Brittany.

"S. Rachel doesn't know?"

Santana shook her head no as Rachel just continued to get more and more confused by the minute.

"Um, guys? I don't know what?" Rachel asked, still incredibly confused.

"That you hooked up with someone while at the party." Santana replied dismissively, as if she was reading a child a bedtime story.

"But you just said Quinn saved me from Finn and the other boys."

"That's right, she saved you from boys. But as Britts pointed out, you weren't playing dodge ball."

Rachel frowned. "What does that...oh my god."

* * *

_Rachel was drunk. Incredibly drunk. Super drunk. That or her head had it's own super power and it was trying to fly away. Rachel really hoped that wasn't true because she needed her brain to stay alive! Rachel looked above her head to make sure that her brain wasn't escaping and deflated in relief when she didn't see her brain flying away._

_That meant she could have some more drinks!_

_Rachel turned herself around in excitement and headed towards the kitchen where Puck was serving his alcohol. She walked right in and sat down next to a super skinny girl who looked a lot like Amy Winehouse. It took a few seconds for all the gears to click in Rachel's head but when they finally did she turned to the girl and smiled._

"_Hey Tessa!" Rachel exclaimed brightly. "You don't look like you're having much fun."_

_Tessa shrugged sheepishly. Rachel watched the beehive hairdo on Tessa's head move with the girls movements. "I'm sorry to seem so negative at a party. It's just, Puck won't stop hitting on me."_

"_Why don't you just tell him?"_

_Tessa looked away sadly. "Because he won't believe me. They never do."_

_Rachel nodded and leaned in closer to her coworker. "Hey Tessa? You wanna know something?"_

_Tessa raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What?"_

_Rachel put on her best serious sober face-which, surprisingly enough, is nothing like a poker face. "If you were a transformer, you would be Optimus Fine."_

_A genuine laugh left Tessa's mouth and she quickly placed a hand over her mouth to prevent any more laughter from escaping. Her laughter sounded a lot like wind chimes. Or maybe Rachel was just that drunk._

_Rachel smiled and continued. "Also, if I spin my head really fast...I can see rainbows, but I think that's just cause you're here with me."_

_Tessa blushed and ducked her head. "You're sweet, Rachel, but you don't have to do this."_

"_Who says I'm doing anything?" Rachel asked before nudging Tessa's shoulder playfully._

_Rachel pour two shots and quickly took hers before gesturing for Tessa to follow suit. "It probably sounds crazy, but I kinda feel like the cherry in a game of Pac Man and the whole intention of the night is to be eaten. But what if I don't want that? what if I want to be the Pac Man and what if you are supposed to be the cherry?"_

_Tessa pursed her cherry red lips in confusion. "What are you trying to say, Rachel?"_

"_I'm not really sure because I've had a lot to drink and I feel like we're on a space craft or that the Spice Girls are about to be big again...but, anyway, I think the gist is that I like you and that you are too pretty to have a terrible time anywhere."_

_Tessa deflated. "You sound just like Puck."_

"_No," Rachel disagreed. "You're too pretty and perfect here." Rachel placed her hand over Tessa's heart. or at least what she hoped was her heart. "Your outer beauty will fade, but this is forever."_

"_Thats...I'm...Rachel."_

"_I just don't want someone as beautiful as you to ever think they deserve to have a terrible time. You deserve everything. You deserve dinners and charts and open doors, okay? Don't settle for less."_

_Rachel took another shot and watched as Tessa bit her lip. Rachel cleared her throat. "I guess what I'm saying is that...it's hot, your hot, I'm hot, so let's hangout?"_

_Tessa smiled widely. "I think I have a better idea."_

_Before Rachel could even wonder what this idea was she felt Tessa's lips connect with hers. instead of pulling away, Rachel placed her hands on Tessa's hair. This was pretty nice. Perhaps her mouth had a superpower of its own as well?_

* * *

Brittany clapped excitedly. "Don't you get it? There's no more loneliness, only sparkles."

Rachel shook her head furiously. there is absolutely no way that any of this could be true. this couldn't be right. she needed to take it all back, go back to the girl twenty minutes ago who was more concerned with why she liked drinking instead of this girl. Rachel continued to shake her head in denial. "Oh no, I didn't. I couldn't."

Santana smirked, obviously getting some sort of amusement out of the whole ordeal. "Oh yes, you did."

"I did."


	10. Uppers Aren't Necessary

A/N: Yay for an update in less than a month! So oddly enough, I really love this chapter. As always, please READ AND REVIEW (I really appreciate any and ALL opinions :D) and it's hard for me to know what's working, what you like, what isn't, or how to get better without opinions. Have a lovely day!

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**UPPERS AREN'T NECESSARY**

(Chapter 10)

Quinn Fabray currently hated _everything_.

It scared her, pulled her, and turned her all around. Most of all though? It _frightened_ her. It frightened her because when she was at her worst, when she was completely quiet...she swore she could hear this voice in the back of her head. It sounded like the voice of her mistakes (the voice of her mother) telling her that hate was such a "strong" word for such a "pretty girl" to use.

Quinn had a strong sense that if anyone really saw what was going on in her head, they would quickly stop calling her pretty.

Either way, this girl was a strange girl to be. Because even in her wildest days, Quinn had never imagined that she'd be so young and so full of pure hatred. Sure, she had her fears that this was her future. But Quinn had always figured that the eagerness of youth would make it all go away.

Clearly age was nothing but a number for Quinn.

On the outside she was the burning image of youth, beauty, and opportunity. But on the inside? On the inside Quinn had the soul of someone who didn't agree. On the inside Quinn was a whole other person who didn't agree with where life was heading.

Quinn was a daughter of appearances but she was a lady of indecision and disappointment.

She was so tired of this thing people called life and she was tired of the role she was playing in it. She was tired of appearances and scripted decisions, she was tired of being what she had to be and not what she wanted to be. Quinn wanted to be something else and feel something else.

She just wanted to live.

Quinn wanted to breathe and make choices in a world where she didn't feel weighted by expectations. She wanted to believe that it was possible to thrive in a world without being numb. Quinn wanted the chance to go out there and prove that she could be something different, anything different.

The world didn't see it because nobody really tried.

Everyone was too caught up in buying the dream somebody sold them that they couldn't even try to understand her heartbreak over this thing that she was becoming. They couldn't see that the person that was turning into someone who was not quite Lucy-she could never be her again, all young and naive and full of hope-and never really Quinn.

They didn't understand just how weird of a place this was to be in. How curiously strange it was to go to sleep and wake up every day and still be the same exact person that you were the day before. To still be _this_ girl, the _worst_ girl, the disappointing girl. The girl who was full off of her heart breaking and hungry from breaking hearts.

It pushed and pulled. This _monster_, this hatred. It pushed and sloshed around inside of her as if it was trying to make itself known to every single part of Quinn. The good parts, the bad parts, and the every day parts.

The world called this life a routine. Quinn could only call it empty.

What was the point of all of it? What was the point of settling for mundane or trying to impress her parents? What was the point of being _that_ when she knew she would never be anything more than _this_.

She was no Rachel Berry. She was only Quinn Fabray. And try as hard as she might, her story was never bound to end well. She was never destined to be anything more.

She had spent so much time trying to impress the world...trying to impress herself, that she never recognized the end result of it all. Quinn could be that perfect girl that everyone wanted. She could be the very thing that made this world feel worldly. But at the end of the day she would still just be alone.

That was the thing that got under her skin. Everyone spent so much time reading into the perfect, happy ending, that they started drinking the worst water. Somehow it ended up being what everyone thought they wanted (herself included). Quinn (just like everyone else) was sold on an idea, on a dream, on a _fantasy_. She was sold on happiness.

What a bunch of bullshit.

Quinn wasn't an idiot. She knew that society was too caught up in the charade she was putting on. She knew everyone believed a little too much in the picture she painted. They assumed that Quinn was more into glorifying being a bitch than she was trying to just be something. They didn't see past the picture, they couldn't recognize how Quinn just didn't care anymore. What was the point in going after a life that she had never been good enough for anyway?

The average fairytale. The average life.

God. Quinn couldn't figure out what was worse. Convincing herself that _average_ was good enough or her family deciding that average was too good for her. It was heartbreaking in a way that she could never really describe. It hurt Quinn to know that this was it, this was her life. These were the rules.

These were now her rules.

Her rules for happily ever after, of life, of living. But why were these the rules that said that this was the way things had to go for her? That she was meant to be a wrong sort-of average. Who changed everything and made it into this world full of the people who could have and the people who couldn't?

The rules, the disappointment...this _life_. It all twisted and twirled so far together that Quinn couldn't tell if she was making sense or nonsense. She hated that this was the Quinn that the world knew and all the Quinn there ever could be. She hated that she was bound by invisible rules with invisible expectations (the kind she would just ruin, anyway).

Quinn couldn't figure out how to just be Quinn. She couldn't figure out how to make sense of things that wouldn't make sense. Nothing took away her thoughts, nothing crushed her hatred, nothing made her feel like this was acceptable. Like she was acceptable.

Nothing except for alcohol.

She didn't want to be the girl who got drunk at parties or the girl who solved her problems by self medicating with alcohol. She didn't want to be anything other then Quinn. The problem was that she didn't know who that girl was, she couldn't separate herself from the dreams of others, from unexpected expectations, from want, or from _waiting_.

Quinn couldn't separate herself from the thoughts and the lies and the impressions, she couldn't stop the whirlwind in her mind or the ache in her bones.

So Quinn took a page out of her parents books and drank at Puck's party. She drank and she drank and she drank until there was only burning and an ease of something.

Drinking at Puck's party didn't make Quinn feel better, it made her better. It put Quinn's mind to rest and her soul at bay. Drinking pushed away thoughts of thoughtless parents and forgotten achievements. Drinking made it easier to breathe and more importantly, it made it easier for Quinn to lie.

To her mind. To her heart. To the world. They were almost the same thing at this point.

The more she drank, the more Quinn found herself making up these stories. Stories of a girl who was far different than herself (but somehow still the same). Sometimes, if Quinn played her cards right, the lines between the true stories and the fake ones would blur. It's like she wanted them to be real so badly that she made them real.

So she drank more and more. She drank until the lies got all jumbled and mixed around. Until she wasn't able to remember which lies she had told herself, which lies were most important, and which lies she should forget.

Quinn drank on days when she had plans and days that she didn't. She drank when there was something and nothing. She drank when she should have worked, indulged where she should have been frugal, and gave in where she should have quit. She drank because she hated all of it and this was easy. It was easier to delude herself when she was barely coherent. It was easier to breathe when there wasn't so much hatred and pressure. When there wasn't so much confusion and expectations and jumbled thoughts.

She drank because she figured that maybe (just maybe) it would kinda make the pain go away.

* * *

Quinn wasn't going to lie. She had desperately been itching for Puck to throw another party. The benefit of living with alcoholics was that she had massive amounts of liquor. The downfall was that alcoholics tended to drink everything, always.

She needed a way to not feel like herself and she needed it quick. So Quinn hightailed it to Puck's quickly after receiving Santana's text. Quinn didn't even care that she had come straight over after closing at Party City, not even bothering to change out of her work clothes.

Quinn wasn't there to mingle though. She was there to get fucked up.

She was a girl with a plan and currently that plan was making it's way down her throat awfully quickly. It burned fast and settled quickly, like it had always belonged underneath her skin.

Quinn scanned over the party quickly and tried to take in the scenery. Puck's house was filled with the usual subjects. His house was covered head to toe with kids who were much more interested in hooking up than they were getting drunk.

Good riddance, that left more for her.

Quinn took another swig out of the vodka bottle that she had stolen from Puck's kitchen. She made a mental note to ask Puck just where he got his liquor from. It was cheap (obviously, since it tasted awful) but the thing Quinn was interested in was that Puck never seemed to run out.

Nobody had that much money or that many connections.

Quinn took a third swig from the bottle as she let her eyes wander from Brittany and Santana to Finn and Tessa-and Tessa's strange best friend, Tina. She scanned over the jocks and the cheerios, content on staying an outsider.

Quinn raised the bottle to her lips to take a fourth swig when she paused. Quinn lowered the bottle in surprise as she watched Rachel Berry take a shot of Tequila without a chaser. It wasn't the fact that Rachel was at the party that surprised Quinn. Puck's summer parties usually had a lot more social room, it wasn't all about the appearances like they were during the school year. Plus, Quinn knew that Finn was carrying a kinda sorta crush for the girl.

It should have bothered her. A lot of things should have bothered her, honestly. But she was starting to get the feeling that her priorities were not what they should have been. That she wasn't what she should have been.

So, no, Berry's presence isn't what surprised her. what surprised her was the fact that she was downing shot after shot like the Tequila was going to save her. For a girl who constantly preached about teenage safety, Berry sure was making the wrong kind of impression.

Quinn rolled her eyes and took a fourth swig, her mind already made up as she made her way over to Rachel. It wasn't like she actually liked the girl-because really? Quinn wasn't the type to let bygones be bygones. It was just that Quinn would rather be an outsider with a person who's an outsider, then have to spend the night pretending to fit in with people who were only good at fitting in.

Even when she pretended to be normal, Quinn had never fit in. Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray seemed to have that in common. Quinn scooted to the left and stepped around a couple that was gyrating too hard in Puck's living room before she finally reached Rachel.

"Woah. Jose Cuervo, you're pounding them down pretty hard there." Quinn spoke as Rachel swallowed another shot.

Rachel grimaced in acknowledgement. "I'm nervous."

"How can you be nervous when you're obviously winning?" Quinn joked lamely.

Rachel looked up at Quinn confused. "What?"

"Never mind, Berry." Quinn gestured to the chair next to Rachel and received a shrug in response. Drunk Rachel seemed to be nonchalant Rachel. It suited her in a way it could never suit Quinn. Maybe because Rachel didn't care-she never had- and Quinn...well, all Quinn did was care.

Quinn shook the bottle from side to side in her hand, sloshing the liquid around that was inside it. "I thought you looked oddly pathetic."

Rachel tore her gaze away from the kitchen counter that they were currently seated at and looked Quinn directly in the stared at Quinn without saying anything, she just looked at her. Quinn quickly decided that this Rachel was too much. This Rachel was all thoughts and silence. It was too much, it was _always_ too much. Quinn could barely handle it before she looked away. She couldn't handle eye contact. She couldn't handle anything.

"So. Why are you nervous?" Quinn asked.

"What? Are we friends now?"

Quinn almost laughed. Instead she settled for a sly smile and a gaze that briefly met Rachel's again. "Only when I'm drunk."

"...so pretty much all the times these days?" Rachel quipped snidely.

Quinn froze and looked at Rachel as if she was a brand new girl. She sorta was. Or maybe she wasn't? Maybe this was the Rachel that had been around all along. Maybe this is why Quinn had felt so immediately threatened. Maybe, maybe, maybe. That's all she had these days.

"Touche, Berry. Fucking Touche."

"I'm sorry." Rachel said. Her apology immediately fell flat and was delivered with very little heart and very little feeling. Quinn should have cared, she should have felt guilty for bringing out this Rachel, for helping her exist. She should have felt _something_.

She didn't, she couldn't, and she _wouldn't_.

Because it was written to be this way-this exchange...every exchange between them-and Quinn often found it was much easier to just follow the script then it was to change.

"No you're not." Quinn shrugged off Rachel's apology. Quinn was a fan of false apologies. She had to be since she used them so often. "And you shouldn't be."

"I guess so."

Something heavy settled over them after that and Quinn found herself thinking back to the very first day they had met one another. They had been so young. Rachel had been so full of promise and Quinn...well Quinn had been full of everything else. She almost chuckled at the the memory because back then, Quinn had already known how this whole thing was going to play out. She always knew, that's why she never tried to change it.

Apparently Rachel had never felt the same.

"Quinn," Rachel whispered into her empty glass. "Why...just why?"

"I hate when people are happy." Quinn replied. As if it was the answer to everything. Perhaps it was.

"Why?"

Quinn took another swig of her vodka and settled into the fuzzy feeling that nestled around her. "Because I'm not sure if I know how to do that."

Rachel poured another shot, undeterred. "Do what?"

"Be happy." Quinn answered honestly, scaring herself. She wasn't certain what she was doing. The conversation was quickly veering away from the careful script that was her and Rachel's relationship. Quinn didn't know if she could handle it.

Rachel stayed silent as Quinn mentally berated herself. She tried to build back up whatever was tearing down in her mind...but the alcohol was making her lose her resolve. To be honest, Quinn didn't even know what she was anymore. She never even knew who she was. She didn't understand herself. Was this what life was supposed to turn into? A huge mess of confusing thoughts that just continued to go around her mind in a circle?

"Do you remember when the fair came to town?

Rachel stared at Quinn as if she had grown a second head. "Yes. We were eight."

"Do you remember...do you re-"

"When I saw you at the ring toss? Of course I do, Quinn. It was the first and last time you were nice to me. For a second I almost believed that you were a real girl." Rachel interrupted.

Quinn released a raggedy breath. "Do you remember what we-what happened?"

Rachel frowned in confusion, the lines in her forehead creasing. "Yes? I kept you company until you had to leave. I shared my pretzel with you."

"Berry, I-you...my parents went to the store a lot."

Rachel rolled her eyes in response. "So did mine, Quinn. They still do. It's normal when people have to eat."

"No. You don't..." Quinn trailed off and stared at the alcohol in front of her. "Fuck it." Quinn took a long gulp and let the liquid burn down her throat before meeting Rachel's confused gaze.

"My parents go on...they go on drinking binges." Quinn took another shot before continuing. "They would say they were going to the store and then they'd be gone for weeks. I never knew...I never knew when they were coming back."

Rachel's mouth fell open in surprise as if she couldn't believe Quinn was sharing something personal about herself. Quinn watched as recognition slowly started to dawn on her face.

"Oh Quinn." Was all Rachel could say.

Even while drunk, Rachel clearly remembered that night. She didn't know it at the time, but Rachel would be forced to recall that memory countless times when Quinn decided to be cruel to her. All it took was a moment-that one moment-for Rachel to be convinced that Quinn was something other than the terrible girl she portrayed to the world.

The night of the fair was a night full of possibilities, happiness, and prospects of friendship. It had been so crisp at the time that Rachel could have sworn she tasted it on the tip of her tongue, all fresh and new and exciting.

Rachel sighed . "Don't make me regret this."

"I'll try not to." Quinn replied as sincerely as she could.

Rachel shrugged in defeat. "Everyone thinks I'm dating Tessa."

Quinn hummed in response.

"The problem is...well, I think I might *actually* be dating Tessa. It was an accident that only got worse because I didn't say anything, and now I'm in a relationship by default. And I'm so confused because this isn't me. I do-"

Quinn held up her hand, effectively shutting Rachel up. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Santana the last time she stuck her head up her ass."

"Hey!" Rachel exclaimed indignantly.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Stop being a putz and actually talk to her."

Rachel deflated in defeat. "I know! I know, okay?" She looked over at Quinn and was absolutely transfixed by the idea that she was here and now and nowhere in between. Quinn kinda liked it.

"We're still not friends." Quinn warned stubbornly. As if the moment they just shared (moments they always shared) wasn't leading to anything different or anything better. As if this wasn't what was supposed to happen all along. As if she didn't care.

"I never thought we were."


	11. You Forgave (And I Won't Forget)

_A/N: Hi guys! Well, this is certainly 3 months too late :3. I do apologize for that. For the record, I had this chapter written and typed up to my liking and then my computer just decided to delete everything. I tried to rewrite it to the best of my ability, but it feels too forced and run-on for my liking. Anyway, please let me know what you think and if this chapter is a good fit? Thanks! Also, no beta. All mistakes are mine and I apologize._

* * *

**You Forgave (And I Won't Forget)**

**(Chapter 11)**

"Are you sure that we're talking about the same Quinn Fabray?" Kurt asked seriously, his hair stable and unwavering (just like his opinions).

Mercedes grabbed her latté from the table and raised the cup to her mouth. She blew into the lid and proceeded to take a small sip. "I agree with Kurt. Quinn certainly has her moments-"

"Yeah, instances where she switches from terrifying to an acceptable kind of crazy are the perfect examples for defending her character." Kurt interrupted snidely.

Mercedes glared at Kurt. She shook her head and turned her attention back to Rachel. "_Anyway_, as I was saying, she has her nice moments. They're just kinda few and far between, ya know?"

Rachel watched as Kurt leaned forward in his chair, his blazer wrinkling uncomfortable at the sudden movement. "What dear Mercedes is trying to say, is that we can't believe you ever had a semi-decent moment with Quinn. Let alone two."

Rachel looked away from Kurt and turned her attention to the trees that were directly outside of the window at The Lima Bean. The wind was starting to blow a little bit harder and the leaves were starting to show tinges of new color. Fall was quickly coming around the corner and Rachel didn't know what she was going to do when school started again.

This job, this place, had made her feel closer to people who she had never wanted to understand, and she was scared. School was three weeks away and Rachel wasn't certain what would happen once McKinley started to matter again. It was nice, pretending like she didn't have to go back to that school and pretending like she wasn't working with the very people who made her life hell.

It's unfortunate that all nice things eventually come to an end.

Rachel turned her head back towards Kurt when she saw his fingers snap in front of her face. "Earth to Rachel, earth to Rachel."

"What?" Rachel snapped. Her irritation rising with each careless statement that Mercedes and Kurt uttered.

It was clear that they didn't get _it_.

By it, she meant the weird camaraderie that had sprung up between Quinn and Rachel Puck's last party. It wasn't anything great or special, Rachel couldn't even really call her and Quinn friends.

It wasn't a friendship. It was a partnership, with each member clear about the requirements. They didn't watch movies or do anything extravagant. The only activity Rachel and Quinn had done since Puck's party was get drunk together. In fact, that was all they did.

Rachel was only around when Quinn wanted her there. But it was nice to forget with someone who's goal was to do the same. It was nice to feel like she and Quinn finally had something in common.

They didn't even do anything, not really. All Quinn and Rachel were were drinking buddies. They were there to help each other feel less alone and it was _nice_. It was nice to be rid of expectations, to feel low with someone who truly understood what feeling low meant. It was nice to not give an answer or a reason, it was nice to just be.

God, how Rachel loved just being. It didn't even matter that it was with Quinn. It only mattered that Rachel felt like Rachel in those moments. It only mattered that she felt like she finally fit into something.

Kurt and Mercedes didn't understand how fitting in could mean so much to her, so they couldn't ever comprehend why she was trying so hard. Mercedes might not have been as popular as the Cheerios, but she had best friends. She was well known and liked around the school.

Kurt wasn't as lucky. He was practically in the same boat as Rachel. He was tormented and tortured on a daily basis in school, but he was also all about sticking and never backing down. He saw befriending their high school enemies as a necessary trial period of the summer. Rachel saw befriending their high school enemies as an opportunity to feel like she was a part of _something_. It wasn't fair that they were trying to take this away from her.

"Look," Kurt started, gently this time. "I'm not saying that I don't believe you, okay? I'll always believe you, Rachel. I'm just saying that...isn't it time to stop pretending like Party City is something other than a job? Isn't it time to stop pretending that these kids will ever be anything other than your co-workers? I mean, God, Rachel. Quinn hates you."

"Not anymore." Rachel replied meekly. "It's more of an uneven distaste these days."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Okay...but even if that's true, how can you believe it'll stay that way when we go back to school?"

"Yeah." Kurt agreed. "When popularity and social circles start to matter."

Mercedes reached her hand across the table and pushed Rachel's hot cocoa to the side, just so she could cover one of Rachel's hands. "We just don't want to see her hurt you."

"You both already know it's too late for that."

Kurt sighed and dropped his shoulders. He didn't understand what was happening to Rachel, _his Rachel._ But ever since Puck's party a few weeks ago, Kurt had noticed that Rachel was changing. Her edges were more defined and the softness that was there, was quickly disappearing. She was turning into a lighter version of Quinn and Kurt wouldn't stand for it.

So he had called up Mercedes and together they had planned this intervention/coffee date. The goal was to show Rachel the honest truth of her situation. Once school started again, The Unholy Trinity would be just that. They won't hold back and he wouldn't expect them to.

As much as Rachel doesn't want to acknowledge it. In Lima, Ohio, popularity matters. Friends matter. Status matters. It doesn't matter if people step out of their circles during the summer, it only matters that they step back in once school resumes.

He needed Rachel to see that but she was making it incredibly hard.

"I mean, how many times have you guys even hung out?" Kurt asked, curious as to whether or not Rachel would answer.

Rachel seemed to contemplate responding honestly for a second, before she caved along with her shoulders. "Five times."

Mercedes pulled her hand back as if Rachel had burned her. Kurt let his mouth hang open in surprise. "Seriously?" Was all he could muster in return.

Mercedes frowned, a confused expression spreading across her features. "What do you guys even do?"

"Yeah, what she said." Kurt chimed in.

"What do you and Finn do when you hang out?" Rachel sniped before she could even stop herself.

Mercedes turned to Kurt. "Wait, what is she talking about?"

Kurt looked flabbergasted. His jaw remained unhinged in shock and he didn't even bother to try and answer Mercedes's question. Mercedes looked back and forth between the two divas and concluded that this wasn't a fight she wanted to be involved in. She felt the familiar feeling of distaste for rachel rise, and she squashed it down as quickly as she could. Sure, it hurt that Kurt was confiding in Rachel when he wasn't confiding in her. Especially since she was Kurt's best friend first. However, she could spot the beginning of a spat when she saw one. So she let it go, a part of her intent on bringing it up later.

Rachel stood up. "What I'm talking about, is how Kurt's a hypocrite." Rachel dug her hands into her skirt pockets and pulled out a twenty. She threw the twenty on the table, not even bothering to get out the creases her pockets had caused. "Tessa's here, so I'm gonna go. Thanks for this ill-advised coffee date."

Rachel put her shades over her eyes and proceeded to head towards the exit. She didn't bother to turn around when she heard chairs scrape or a voice yell over the coffee shop.

"Says the girl who can't stop leading someone on!"

Rachel shook her head. She didn't need any of this, not really. She had gotten along just fine before Kurt and Mercedes had tried to take up a presence in her life. All she needed was a margarita and someone who was willing to feel like nothing with her.

As Quinn had once said, _"Friends are often overrated, anyway."_

* * *

It starts off as a drunken adventure.

Brittany calls it bonding, Rachel just calls it depressing.

She's preoccupied, like always, with the thoughts in her head. It used to be easier to ignore them. It used to be easier to pretend like she didn't just have a fight with the only people she could ever claimed to be her friends. Or that she didn't have fathers who were never there when it counted. But these days, all ease is gone, and Rachel can barely do much to silence the thoughts. They nitpick at her, tumble around, and whisper in rumbles.

Rachel placed her index finger on her temple. She rubbed in circles, trying to placate the headache that she could already feel brewing. She wasn't very good at handling headaches anymore.

Especially when said headaches were usually brought on by work, Kurt and Mercedes, and nowadays, her fathers.

Her father's fighting had been a recent development, but it was quickly turning into a constant in her lives. Their fights weren't about money, or responsibilities, or love. They were about _fidelity._ And Rachel couldn't bring herself to hear them, she couldn't bring herself to listen.

And when Rachel couldn't listen, she drank. When she had a headache, she drank. When she wanted everything to match the numbness inside, she drank...with Quinn Fabray. It was telling, that something so small could bond personalities so big. Rachel didn't care, she wasn't even concerned with the fact that Quinn was barely what she could call a friend, less than even.

None of that mattered. Not today, anyway.

So Rachel did what she always did these days. She walked downstairs into her father's study (they weren't at _home,_ they were never home) grabbed the closest bottle of scotch and poured it into her coffee mug. She didn't stop until her glass was practically overflowing with Whiskey (and a tiny bit of coffee).

It isn't worth it, Rachel notes, because no matter how much she drinks to forget about today, she'll still wake up and remember it tomorrow. But fog is better than whispers, and these days she's becoming a fan of weighing her options until she gets something better.

She's halfway through her third cup when she hears her doorbell ring.

She hopes that it's Kurt.

Rachel knows that it's not.

It isn't until the third ring that Rachel decides to get up. The nuisance from outside obviously isn't going to go away. She was going to have to give it her attention and conjure up a Rachel Berry speech (the kind that would make people stop) on a whim.

The sight that greets her when she arrives downstairs, is horrific. Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, and Brittany S. Pierce are at Rachel's door in all of their terrifying glory.

She leans against the door because the Scotch has made it harder for her to stand, and easier for her weaknesses to stand out. She doesn't know what to say because she wasn't expecting The Unholy Trinity (ever). So she just stands still and gapes at the three Cheerios on her porch.

"It looks like Berry already got the party started." Santana says, a smirk on her lips. "My kind of girl."

Brittany stood on the tips of her toes and peered over Rachel while Rachel pretended to not take notice of Santana's comment. It didn't take much for her to see past the hallway. "But there's nobody here. You can't start a party with no guests. Unless they're imaginary. I did that once. It was intense."

Quinn laughed and Rachel felt her mind fog over. This was too much, but the three girls didn't seem to notice. Quinn was dressed impeccable in her yellow sundress, white cardigan, and white flats. Santana and Brittany were both in sweatpants and a cheerios sweatshirt. They didn't seem to care that they were "slumming it".

Rachel looked at the girls in question and was hit with a sense of nostalgia. She truly wished that Kurt and Mercedes had made the effort to understand what this is and what it wasn't. Rachel wished that they had _tried _to look past everything and just look at Rachel.

The problem with Kurt and Mercedes was that they were constant reminders of her failures, of her deficits. They were unwilling to accept change and they were unwilling to accept her, whoever she was now.

Quinn smiled and looked over at Brittany. "If I recall, that was the best party of the decade." Quinn moved her eyes towards Rachel. "Berry, are you going to invite us in or are what?"

Santana didn't wait for Quinn to answer. She pushed past Rachel with a short, "Berry", her hand intertwined with Brittany's. Quinn didn't follow the other two as quickly, she slowed her pace and waited as Rachel shut the front door, all protest gone.

"You said it was okay to come over."

Rachel pulled away to look at Quinn. "Yeah, for you. Not for Unicorn Dancer and Satan Worshiper over there."

"What?" Quinn furrowed her eyebrows, clearly confused. It only further reminded Rachel how she was the one who was drunk on a Thursday.

"Nothing." Rachel said (and meant). Her mind was swimming and the only thing she felt like doing was finishing her drink.

"Hey, Two Stooges! Stop lollygagging and bring your asses over here so we can get our drinks on."

Rachel ignored the fact that Santana was ordering her around in _her_ home. She turned away from Quinn and started to lead her towards her living room. Santana was busy laying a deck of cards around a red plastic cup when Rachel realized that this was the sort of Thursday night she used to dream about.

It was wholly depressing.

Rachel didn't have it in her to protest when Brittany turned the radio up to an obnoxiously loud volume. Or to argue with Quinn when she grabbed the Scotch (that Rachel had taken a few hours earlier) and sat down next to Santana. Rachel simply only had it in her to follow.

Maybe that's what Rachel should have done all along, _follow_.

"You look like somebody just told you that your furniture sucks and your house decor is depressing." Santana said, her hands reaching into her bag and pulling out a prescription bottle. Santana smirked at Rachel. Her smile conniving and treacherous and tempting. "Wait. I just did."

Brittany plopped down next to Santana, her head bobbing to the Ke$ha song that was pumping in the background. "S, it's not nice to point out the obvious. Especially when it's sad, and it's true."

Quinn leaned back as she laughed. Her shoulders shaking with mirth. Rachel sighed and let Brittany grab her cup before handing it to Quinn. She watched as Quinn filled up two plastic cups before handing them to Santana and Brittany. Quinn quickly filled up a third cup before topping off Rachel's mug that Brittany had handed her. When Quinn handed her the mug, Rachel didn't have it in her to protest.

She wasn't sober enough to remember tonight and she wasn't drunk enough to forget it, either. Rachel honestly didn't know what was wrong with her these days, but she did know it was a lot easier to handle if she spent it hazed and dazed.

Quinn looked over to Rachel, a tight smile on her lips. "Here's to being fucked up enough that you know how to forget."

"Cheers." Santana and Brittany uttered in unison before chugging their drinks.

Rachel quickly followed their examples but didn't chug her drink. She was already far too gone and she couldn't risk being the first one to pass out. Especially since this was her house. Rachel had no clue about where this night would lead, but she was somewhat glad she still had three weeks to figure it out.

Santana was the first to finish. She turned her direction towards her favorite target. "So, Berry, tell us about how you became a lesbian."

"I am not a lesbian!" Rachel exclaimed, drops of her Scotch spilling onto the carpet as well as her clothes.

Brittany leaned towards Rachel, absolutely interested in the conversation now. "Did you accidentally watch the whole first season of The L Word too? That's how they got me."

Rachel listened as Quinn and Santana erupted in laughter. If this was any indication of where the night would go, Rachel was certain that she was in no way prepared for it. She was aware that this didn't change anything. In fact, they three girls were probably only using her for a location and for alcohol. Rachel knew that this night would go back to being a forgotten thing once Mckinley and power came back into play.

Hell, she knew that Kurt and Mercedes were right. However, that didn't make her any less captivated. It didn't make Rachel want to stop any of this tentative gathering from happening.

It was nice, for just a moment, to pretend.


End file.
